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A   DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 


^y 


A    DIVERSITY 
OF    CREATURES 


BY 

RUDYARD  KIPLING 


'  Praised  be  Allah  for  the  diversity  of  His  creatures.' 

Arabian  Nights. 


MACMILLAN   AND    CO.,    LIMITED 

ST.   MARTIN'S   STREET,   LONDON 

1917 


7 


COPYRIGHT 


10055' 


PREFACE 

With  three  exceptions,  the  dates  at  the  head  of 
these  stories  show  when  they  were  published  in 
magazine  form.  '  The  Village  that  Voted  the 
Earth  was  Flat,'  '  Regulus,'  and  *  My  Son's  Wife ' 
carry  the  dates  when  they  were  written. 

RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


CONTENTS 


As  Easy  as  A.B.C.      . 

I 

MacDonougtts  Song . 

43 

Friendly  Brook            . 

45 

The  Land  ...... 

63 

In  the  Same  Boat                                                   ■ 

69 

1  Helen  all  Alone '    . 

103 

The  Honours  of  War 

105 

The  Children           .... 

129 

The  Dog  Hervey       .              . 

131 

The  Comforters        .... 

158 

The  Village  that  Voted  the  Earth  was  Flat    . 

.       161 

The  Press   ..... 

214 

In  the  Presence          .... 

217 

Jobson's  Amen         .... 

•       237 

Regulus         . 

•       239 

A  Translation          .... 

■       271 

viii      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 


The  Edge  of  the  Evening 

PAGE 

273 

Rebirth 

299 

The  Horse  Marines   . 

301 

The  Legend  of  Mirth 

329 

1  My  Son's  Wife  '       . 

333 

The  Floods 

377 

The  Fabulists 

379 

The  Vortex  . 

381 

The  Song  of  Seven  Cities 

4°  3 

'  Swept  and  Garnished  ' 

407 

Mary  Postgate 

419 

The  Beginnings 

442 

As  Easy  as  A. B.C. 
(1912) 

The  A. B.C.,  that  semi  -elected,  semi  -  nominated 
body  of  a  few  score  persons,  controls  the  Planet. 
Transportation  is  Civilisation,  our  motto  runs. 
Theoretically  we  do  what  we  please,  so  long  as  ws 
Jo  not  interfere  with  the  traffic  and  all  it  implies. 
Practically,  the  A. B.C.  confirms  or  annuls  all  inter- 
national arrangements,  and,  to  judge  from  its  last 
report,  finds  our  tolerant,  humorous,  lazy  little 
Planet  only  too  ready  to  shift  the  whole  burden  of 
public  administration  on  its  shoulders. 

'  With  the  Night  Mail:  J 

Isn't  it  almost  time  that  our  Planet  took  some 
interest  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Aerial  Board  of 
Control  ?  One  knows  that  easy  communications 
nowadays,  and  lack  of  privacy  in  the  past,  have 
killed  all  curiosity  among  mankind,  but  as  the 
Board's  Official  Reporter  I  am  bound  to  tell  my 
tale. 

At  9.30  a.m.,  August  26,  a.d.  2065,  the  Board, 
sitting   in  London,  was   informed   by  De  Forest 

1  Actions  and  Reactions. 

f£  1  B 


2         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

that  the  District  of  Northern  Illinois  had  riotously- 
cut  itself  out  of  all  systems  and  would  remain 
disconnected  till  the  Board  should  take  over  and 
administer  it  direct. 

Every  Northern  Illinois  freight  and  passenger 
tower  was,  he  reported,  out  of  action  ;  all  District 
main,  local,  and  guiding  lights  had  been  ex- 
tinguished ;  all  General  Communications  were 
dumb,  and  through  traffic  had  been  diverted. 
No  reason  had  been  given,  but  he  gathered 
unofficially  from  the  Mayor  of  Chicago  that  the 
District  complained  of  '  crowd-making  and  in- 
vasion of  privacy.' 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  of  no  importance 
whether  Northern  Illinois  stay  in  or  out  of 
planetary  circuit  ;  as  a  matter  of  policy,  any 
complaint  of  invasion  of  privacy  needs  immediate 
investigation,  lest  worse  follow. 

By  9.45  a.m.  De  Forest,  DragomirofF  (Russia), 
Takahira  (Japan),  and  Pirolo  (Italy)  were  em- 
powered to  visit  Illinois  and  '  to  take  such  steps 
as  might  be  necessary  for  the  resumption  of 
traffic  and  all  that  that  implies?  By  10  a.m.  the 
Hall  was  empty,  and  the  four  Members  and  I 
were  aboard  what  Pirolo  insisted  on  calling  '  my 
leetle  godchild  ' — that  is  to  say,  the  new  Victor 
Pirolo.  Our  Planet  prefers  to  know  Victor  Pirolo 
as  a  gentle,  grey-haired  enthusiast  who  spends  his 
time  near  Foggia,  inventing  or  creating  new 
breeds  of  Spanish-Italian  olive-trees  ;  but  there  is 
another  side  to  his  nature — the  manufacture  of 
quaint  inventions,  of  which  the  Victor  Pirolo  is, 
perhaps,  not  the  least  surprising.     She  and  a  few 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  3 

score  sister-craft  of  the  same  type  embody  his 
latest  ideas.  But  she  is  not  comfortable.  An 
A.B.C.  boat  does  not  take  the  air  with  the  level- 
keeled  lift  of  a  liner,  but  shoots  up  rocket-fashion 
like  the  '  aeroplane '  of  our  ancestors,  and  makes 
her  height  at  top-speed  from  the  first.  That  is 
why  I  found  myself  sitting  suddenly  on  the  large 
lap  of  Eustace  Arnott,  who  commands  the  A.B.C. 
Fleet.  One  knows  vaguely  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  a  Fleet  somewhere  on  the  Planet,  and 
that,  theoretically,  it  exists  for  the  purposes  of 
what  used  to  be  known  as  '  war.'  Only  a  week 
before,  while  visiting  a  glacier  sanatorium  behind 
Gothaven,  I  had  seen  some  squadrons  making  false 
auroras  far  to  the  north  while  they  manoeuvred 
round  the  Pole  ;  but,  naturally,  it  had  never 
occurred  to  me  that  the  things  could  be  used  in 
earnest. 

Said  Arnott  to  De  Forest  as  I  staggered  to  a 
seat  on  the  chart-room  divan  :  '  We're  tremen- 
dously grateful  to  'em  in  Illinois.  We've  never  had 
a  chance  of  exercising  all  the  Fleet  together. 
I've  turned  in  a  General  Call,  and  I  expect  we'll 
have  at  least  two  hundred  keels  aloft  this  evening.' 

'  Well  aloft  ? '  De  Forest  asked. 

*  Of  course,  sir.  Out  of  sight  till  they're 
called  for.' 

Arnott  laughed  as  he  lolled  over  the  transparent 
chart-table  where  the  map  of  the  summer-blue 
Atlantic  slid  along,  degree  by  degree,  in  exact 
answer  to  our  progress.  Our  dial  already  showed 
320  m.p.h.  and  we  were  two  thousand  feet  above 
the  uppermost  traffic  lines. 


4         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Now,  where  is  this  Illinois  District  of  yours  ? ' 
said  Dragomiroff.  'One  travels  so  much,  one  sees 
so  little.    Oh,  I  remember  !    It  is  in  North  America.' 

De  Forest,  whose  business  it  is  to  know  the 
out  districts,  told  us  that  it  lay  at  the  foot 
of  Lake  Michigan,  on  a  road  to  nowhere  in 
particular,  was  about  half  an  hour's  run  from  end  to 
end,  and,  except  in  one  corner,  as  flat  as  the  sea. 
Like  most  flat  countries  nowadays,  it  was  heavily 
guarded  against  invasion  of  privacy  by  forced 
timber — fifty-foot  spruce  and  tamarack,  grown  in 
five  years.  The  population  was  close  on  two 
millions,  largely  migratory  between  Florida  and 
California,  with  a  backbone  of  small  farms  (they 
call  a  thousand  acres  a  farm  in  Illinois)  whose 
owners  come  into  Chicago  for  amusements  and 
society  during  the  winter.  They  were,  he  said, 
noticeably  kind,  quiet  folk,  but  a  little  exacting, 
as  all  flat  countries  must  be,  in  their  notions  of 
privacy.  There  had,  for  instance,  been  no  printed 
news  -  sheet  in  Illinois  for  twenty  -  seven  years. 
Chicago  argued  that  engines  for  printed  news 
sooner  or  later  developed  into  engines  for  invasion 
of  privacy,  which  in  turn  might  bring  the  old 
terror  of  Crowds  and  blackmail  back  to  the  Planet. 
So  news-sheets  were  not. 

'And  that's  Illinois,'  De  Forest  concluded. 
'  You  see,  in  the  Old  Days,  she  was  in  the  fore- 
front of  what  they  used  to  call  ''progress,"  and 
Chicago ' 

'  Chicago  ?  '  said  Takahira.  '  That's  the  little 
place  where  there  is  Salati's  Statue  of  the  Nigger 
in  Flames?     A  fine  bit  of  old  work.' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  5 

'  When  did  you  see  it  ?  '  asked  De  Forest 
quickly.     '  They  only  unveil  it  once  a  year.' 

'  I  know.  At  Thanksgiving.  It  was  then,' 
said  Takahira,  with  a  shudder.  '  And  they  sang 
MacDonough's  Song,  too.' 

*  Whew  !  '  De  Forest  whistled.  '  I  did  not 
know  that !  1  wish  you'd  told  me  before. 
MacDonough's  Song  may  have  had  its  uses  when 
it  was  composed,  but  it  was  an  infernal  legacy  for 
any  man  to  leave  behind.' 

'  It's  protective  instinct,  my  dear  fellows,'  said 
Pirolo,  rolling  a  cigarette.  *  The  Planet,  she  has 
had  her  dose  of  popular  government.  She  suffers 
from  inherited  agoraphobia.  She  has  no — ah — 
use  for  crowds.' 

Dragomiroff  leaned  forward  to  give  him  a 
light.  '  Certainly,'  said  the  white  -  bearded 
Russian,  '  the  Planet  has  taken  all  precautions 
against  crowds  for  the  past  hundred  years.  What 
is  our  total  population  to-day  ?  Six  hundred 
million,  we  hope  ;  five  hundred,  we  think  ;  but — 
but  if  next  year's  census  shows  more  than  four 
hundred  and  fifty,  I  myself  will  eat  all  the  extra 
little  babies.  We  have  cut  the  birth-rate  out — 
right  out !  For  a  long  time  we  have  said  to 
Almighty  God,  "  Thank  You,  Sir,  but  we  do  not 
much  like  Your  game  of  life,  so  we  will  not  play."  ' 

'  Anyhow,'  said  Arnott  defiantly,  '  men  live 
a  century  apiece  on  the  average  now.' 

'  Oh,  that  is  quite  well !  I  am  rich — you  are 
rich — we  are  all  rich  and  happy  because  we  are  so 
few  and  we  live  so  long.  Only  /  think  Almighty 
God  He  will  remember  what  the  Planet  was  like 


6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

in  the  time  of  Crowds  and  the  Plague.     Perhaps 
He  will  send  us  nerves.     Eh,  Pirolo  ?  ' 

The  Italian  blinked  into  space.  '  Perhaps,' 
he  said,  *  He  has  sent  them  already.  Anyhow, 
you  cannot  argue  with  the  Planet.  She  does  not 
forget  the  Old  Days,  and — what  can  you  do  ? ' 

1  For  sure  we  can't  remake  the  world.' 
De  Forest  glanced  at  the  map  flowing  smoothly 
across  the  table  from  west  to  east.  '  We  ought 
to  be  over  our  ground  by  nine  to-night.  There 
won't  be  much  sleep  afterwards.' 

On  which  hint  we  dispersed,  and  I  slept  till 
Takahira  waked  me  for  dinner.  Our  ancestors 
thought  nine  hours'  sleep  ample  for  their  little 
lives.  We,  living  thirty  years  longer,  feel  our- 
selves defrauded  with  less  than  eleven  out  of  the 
twenty-four. 

By  ten  o'clock  we  were  over  Lake  Michigan. 
The  west  shore  was  lightless,  except  for  a  dull 
ground -glare  at  Chicago,  and  a  single  traffic- 
directing  light — its  leading  beam  pointing  north — 
at  Waukegan  on  our  starboard  bow.  None  of 
the  Lake  villages  gave  any  sign  of  life  ;  and 
inland,  westward,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  blackness 
lay  unbroken  on  the  level  earth.  We  swooped 
down  and  skimmed  low  across  the  dark,  throwing 
calls  county  by  county.  Now  and  again  we 
picked  up  the  faint  glimmer  of  a  house-light,  or 
heard  the  rasp  and  rend  of  a  cultivator  being 
played  across  the  fields,  but  Northern  Illinois  as 
a  whole  was  one  inky,  apparently  uninhabited, 
waste  of  high,  forced  woods.  Only  our  illuminated 
map,  with  its  little  pointer  switching  from  county 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  7 

to  county,  as  we  wheeled  and  twisted,  gave  us  any 
idea  of  our  position.  Our  calls,  urgent,  pleading, 
coaxing  or  commanding,  through  the  General 
Communicator  brought  no  answer.  Illinois 
strictly  maintained  her  own  privacy  in  the  timber 
which  she  grew  for  that  purpose. 

'  Oh,  this  is  absurd  ! '  said  De  Forest. 
1  We're  like  an  owl  trying  to  work,  a  wheat-field. 
Is  this  Bureau  Creek?  Let's  land,  Arnott,  and 
get  hold  of  some  one.' 

We  brushed  over  a  belt  of  forced  woodland — 
fifteen-year-old  maple  sixty  feet  high — grounded 
on  a  private  meadow-dock,  none  too  big,  where 
we  moored  to  our  own  grapnels,  and  hurried  out 
through  the  warm  dark  night  towards  a  light  in 
a  verandah.  As  we  neared  the  garden  gate  I 
could  have  sworn  we  had  stepped  knee-deep  in 
quicksand,  for  we  could  scarcely  drag  our  feet 
against  the  prickling  currents  that  clogged  them. 
After  five  paces  we  stopped,  wiping  our  foreheads, 
as  hopelessly  stuck  on  dry  smooth  turf  as  so  many 
cows  in  a  bog. 

'  Pest  ! '  cried  Pirolo  angrily.  '  We  are 
ground-circuited.  And  it  is  my  own  system  of 
ground-circuits  too  !     I  know  the  pull.' 

'  Good  evening,'  said  a  girl's  voice  from  the 
verandah.  '  Oh,  I'm  sorry  !  We've  locked  up. 
Wait  a  minute.' 

We  heard  the  click  of  a  switch,  and  almost  fell 
forward  as  the  currents  round  our  knees  were 
withdrawn. 

The  girl  laughed,  and  laid  aside  her  knitting. 
An  old-fashioned  Controller  stood  at  her  elbow, 


8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

which  she  reversed  from  time  to  time,  and  we 
could  hear  the  snort  and  clank  of  the  obedient 
cultivator  half  a  mile  away,  behind  the  guardian 
woods. 

*  Come  in  and  sit  down,'  she  said.  c  I'm 
cnly  playing  a  plough.  Dad's  gone  to  Chicago  to 
— Ah  !     Then  it  was  your  call  I  heard  just  now  !  ' 

She  had  caught  sight  of  Arnott's  Board  uniform, 
leaped  to  the  switch,  and  turned  it  full  on. 

We  were  checked,  gasping,  waist-deep  in 
current  this  time,  three  yards  from  the  verandah. 

*  We  only  want  to  know  what's  the  matter 
with  Illinois,'  said  De  Forest  placidly. 

*  Then  hadn't  you  better  go  to  Chicago  and  find 
out  ? '  she  answered.  '  There's  nothing  wrong 
here.     We  own  ourselves/ 

*  How  can  we  go  anywhere  if  you  won't  loose 
us  ? '  De  Forest  went  on,  while  Arnott  scowled. 
Admirals  of  Fleets  are  still  quite  human  when 
their  dignity  is  touched. 

'  Stop  a  minute — you  don't  know  how  funny 
you  look  ! '  She  put  her  hands  on  her  hips  and 
laughed  mercilessly. 

'  Don't  worry  about  that,'  said  Arnott,  and 
whistled.  A  voice  answered  from  the  Victor 
Pirolo  in  the  meadow. 

'  Only  a  single-fuse  ground-circuit !  '  Arnott 
called.      '  Sort  it  out  gently,  please.' 

We  heard  the  ping  of  a  breaking  lamp  ;  a  fuse 
blew  out  somewhere  in  the  verandah  roof,  frighten- 
ing a  nest  full  of  birds.  The  ground-circuit 
was  open.  We  stooped  and  rubbed  our  tingling 
ankles. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  9 

1  How  rude — how  very  rude  of  you  !  '  the 
maiden  cried. 

*  'Sorry,  but  we  haven't  time  to  look  funny,' 
said  Arnott.  *  We've  got  to  go  to  Chicago  ;  and 
if  I  were  you,  young  lady,  I'd  go  into  the  cellars 
for  the  next  two  hours,  and  take  mother  with 
me.' 

Off  he  strode,  with  us  at  his  heels,  muttering 
indignantly,  till  the  humour  of  the  thing  struck  and 
doubled  him  up  with  laughter  at  the  foot  of  the 
gangway  ladder. 

'  The  Board  hasn't  shown  what  you  might  call 
a  fat  spark  on  this  occasion,'  said  De  Forest, 
wiping  his  eyes.  '  I  hope  I  didn't  look  as  big  a 
fool  as  you  did,  Arnott !  Hullo  !  What  on  earth 
is  that  ?     Dad  coming  home  from  Chicago  ?  ' 

There  was  a  rattle  and  a  rush,  and  a  five- 
plough  cultivator,  blades  in  air  like  so  many  teeth, 
trundled  itself  at  us  round  the  edge  of  the  timber, 
fuming  and  sparking  furiously. 

1  Jump  ! '  said  Arnott,  as  we  bundled  ourselves 
through  the  none-too-wide  door.  '  Never  mind 
about  shutting  it.     Up  ! ' 

The  Victor  Pirolo  lifted  like  a  bubble,  and  the 
vicious  machine  shot  just  underneath  us,  clawing 
high  as  it  passed. 

'  There's  a  nice  little  spit-kitten  for  you  ! '  said 
Arnott,  dusting  his  knees.  '  We  ask  her  a  civil 
question.  First  she  circuits  us  and  then  she  plays 
a  cultivator  at  us  !  " 

*  And  then  we  fly,'  said  Dragomiroff.  '  If  I 
were  forty  years  more  young,  I  would  go  back 
and  kiss  her.     Ho  !   Ho  !  ' 


io       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  I,'  said  Pirolo,  '  would  smack  her  !  My  pet 
ship  has  been  chased  by  a  dirty  plough  ;  a — how 
do  you  say  ? — agricultural  implement.' 

4  Oh,  that  is  Illinois  all  over,'  said  De  Forest. 
'  They  don't  content  themselves  with  talking  about 
privacy.  They  arrange  to  have  it.  And  now, 
where's  your  alleged  fleet,  Arnott  ?  We  must 
assert  ourselves  against  this  wench.' 

Arnott  pointed  to  the  black  heavens. 

1  Waiting  on — up  there,'  said  he.  '  Shall  I 
give  them  the  whole  installation,  sir  ? ' 

1  Oh,  I  don't  think  the  young  lady  is  quite 
worth  that,'  said  De  Forest.  '  Get  over  Chicago, 
and  perhaps  we'll  see  something.' 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  hanging  at  two 
thousand  feet  over  an  oblong  block  of  in- 
candescence in  the  centre  of  the  little  town. 

'That  looks  like  the  old  City  Hall.  Yes, 
there's  Salati's  Statue  in  front  of  it,'  said  Takahira. 
'  But  what  on  earth  are  they  doing  to  the  place  ? 
I  thought  they  used  it  for  a  market  nowadays  ! 
Drop  a  little,  please.' 

We  could  hear  the  sputter  and  crackle  of  road- 
surfacing  machines — the  cheap  Western  type  which 
fuse  stone  and  rubbish  into  lava-like  ribbed  glass 
for  their  rough  country  roads.  Three  or  four 
surfacers  worked  on  each  side  of  a  square  of  ruins. 
The  brick  and  stone  wreckage  crumbled,  slid 
forward,  and  presently  spread  out  into  white-hot 
pools  of  sticky  slag,  which  the  levelling-rods 
smoothed  more  or  less  flat.  Already  a  third  of 
the  big  block  had  been  so  treated,  and  was  cooling 
to  dull  red  before  our  astonished  eyes. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  u 

'  It  is  the  Old  Market,'  said  De  Forest.  '  Well, 
there's  nothing  to  prevent  Illinois  from  making  a 
road  through  a  market.  It  doesn't  interfere  with 
traffic,  that  I  can  see.' 

'  Hsh !  '  said  Arnott,  gripping  me  by  the 
shoulder.  '  Listen  !  They're  singing.  Why  on 
the  earth  are  they  singing  ? ' 

We  dropped  again  till  we  could  see  the  black 
fringe  of  people  at  the  edge  of  that  glowing 
square. 

At  first  they  only  roared  against  the  roar  of  the 
surfacers  and  levellers.  Then  the  words  came  up 
clearly — the  words  of  the  Forbidden  Song  that  all 
men  knew,  and  none  let  pass  their  lips — poor  Pat 
MacDonough's  Song,  made  in  the  days  of  the 
Crowds  and  the  Plague — every  silly  word  of  it 
loaded  to  sparking -point  with  the  Planet's  in- 
herited memories  of  horror,  panic,  fear  and  cruelty. 
And  Chicago — innocent,  contented  little  Chicago 
— was  singing  it  aloud  to  the  infernal  tune  that 
carried  riot,  pestilence  and  lunacy  round  our 
Planet  a  few  generations  ago  ! 

'  Once  there  was  The  People — Terror  gave  it  birth  ; 
Once  there  was  The  People,  and  it  made  a  hell  of  earth  ! ' 

(Then  the  stamp  and  pause)  : 

'Earth  arose  and  crushed  it.     Listen,  oh,  ye  slain  ! 
Once  there  was  The  People — it  shall  never  be  again  !  ' 

The  levellers  thrust  in  savagely  against  the  ruins 
as  the  song  renewed  itself  again,  again  and  again, 
louder  than  the  crash  of  the  melting  walls. 

De  Forest  frowned. 


12       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'I  don't  like  that,'  he  said.  *  They've  broken 
back  to  the  Old  Days !  They'll  be  killing  some- 
body soon.  I  think  we'd  better  divert  5em, 
Arnott.' 

*  Ay,  ay,  sir.'  Arnott's  hand  went  to  his  cap, 
and  we  heard  the  hull  of  the  Victor  Pirolo  ring  to 
the  command  :  '  Lamps !  Both  watches  stand 
by  !   Lamps  !    Lamps !    Lamps  !  ' 

4  Keep  still ! '  Takahira  whispered  to  me. 
*  Blinkers,  please,  quartermaster.' 

'  It's  all  right — all  right  !  '  said  Pirolo  from 
behind,  and  to  my  horror  slipped  over  my  head 
some  sort  of  rubber  helmet  that  locked  with  a  snap. 
I  could  feel  thick  colloid  bosses  before  my  eyes, 
but  I  stood  in  absolute  darkness. 

'  To  save  the  sight,'  he  explained,  and  pushed 
me  on  to  the  chart-room  divan.  '  You  will  see  in 
a  minute.' 

As  he  spoke  I  became  aware  of  a  thin  thread  of 
almost  intolerable  light,  let  down  from  heaven  at 
an  immense  distance — one  vertical  hairsbreadth 
of  frozen  lightning. 

'  Those  are  our  flanking  ships,'  said  Arnott  at 
my  elbow.  '  That  one  is  over  Galena.  Look 
south — that  other  one's  over  Keithburg.  Vincennes 
is  behind  us,  and  north  yonder  is  Winthrop  Woods. 
The  Fleet's  in  position,  sir' — this  to  De  Forest. 
'  As  soon  as  you  give  the  word.' 

'  Ah  no  !  No  ! '  cried  Dragomiroff  at  my  side. 
I  could  feel  the  old  man  tremble.  '  I  do  not  know 
all  that  you  can  do,  but  be  kind  !  I  ask  you  to  be 
a  little  kind  to  them  below  !  This  is  horrible — 
horrible  ! ' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  13 

'When  a  Woman  kills  a  Chicken, 
Dynasties  and  Empires  sicken,' 

Takahira  quoted.  *  It  is  too  late  to  be  gentle 
now.' 

■  Then  take  off  my  helmet  !  Take  off  my 
helmet !  '  Dragomiroff  began  hysterically. 

Pirolo  must  have  put  his  arm  round  him. 

*  Hush,'  he  said,  '  I  am  here.  It  is  all  right, 
Ivan,  my  dear  fellow.' 

'I'll  just  send  our  little  girl  in  Bureau  County 
a  warning,'  said  Arnott.  '  She  don't  deserve  it, 
but  we'll  allow  her  a  minute  or  two  to  take 
mamma  to  the  cellar.' 

In  the  utter  hush  that  followed  the  growling 
spark  after  Arnott  had  linked  up  his  Service  Com- 
municator with  the  invisible  Fleet,  we  heard 
MacDonough's  Song  from  the  city  beneath  us 
grow  fainter  as  we  rose  to  position.  Then 
I  clapped  my  hand  before  my  mask  lenses,  for  it 
was  as  though  the  floor  of  Heaven  had  been 
riddled  and  all  the  inconceivable  blaze  of  suns  in 
the  making  was  poured  through  the  manholes. 

1  You  needn't  count,'  said  Arnott.  I  had  had 
no  thought  of  such  a  thing.  *  There  are  two 
hundred  and  fifty  keels  up  there,  five  miles  apart. 
Full  power,  please,  for  another  twelve  seconds.' 

The  firmament,  as  far  as  eye  could  reach,  stood 
on  pillars  of  white  fire.  One  fell  on  the  glowing 
square  at  Chicago,  and  turned  it  black. 

1  Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  !  Can  men  be  allowed  to  do 
such  things  ? '  Dragomiroff  cried,  and  fell  across 
our  knees. 

1  Glass    of  water,  please,'  said    Takahira  to  a 


i4       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

helmeted   shape  that  leaped   forward.     •  He    is  a 
little  faint.' 

The  lights  switched  off,  and  the  darkness 
stunned  like  an  avalanche.  We  could  hear 
Dragomiroff's  teeth  on  the  glass  edge. 

Pirolo  was  comforting  him. 

'  All  right,  all  ra-ight,'  he  repeated.  .  *  Come 
and  lie  down.  Come  below  and  take  off  your 
mask.  I  give  you  my  word,  old  friend,  it  is  all 
right.  They  are  my  siege-lights.  Little  Victor 
Pirolo's  leetle  lights.  You  know  me  I  I  do  not 
hurt  people.' 

'  Pardon  ! '  Dragomiroff  moaned.  '  I  have 
never  seen  Death.  I  have  never  seen  the  Board 
take  action.  Shall  we  go  down  and  burn  them 
alive,  or  is  that  already  done  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  hush,'  said  Pirolo,  and  I  think  he  rocked 
him  in  his  arms. 

'  Do  we  repeat,  sir  ? '  Arnott  asked  De  Forest. 

'  Give  'em  a  minute's  break,'  De  Forest 
replied.     'They  may  need  it.' 

We  waited  a  minute,  and  then  MacDonough's 
Song,  broken  but  defiant,  rose  from  undefeated 
Chicago. 

'  They  seem  fond  of  that  tune,'  said  De. 
Forest.      '  I  should  let  'em  have  it,  Arnott.' 

'  Very  good,  sir,'  said  Arnott,  and  felt  his  way 
to  the  Communicator  keys. 

No  lights  broke  forth,  but  the  hollow  of  the 
skies  made  herself  the  mouth  for  one  note  that 
touched  the  raw  fibre  of  the  brain.  Men  hear 
such  sounds  in  delirium,  advancing  like  tides  from 
horizons  beyond  the  ruled  foreshores  of  space. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  15 

*  That's  our  pitch-pipe,'  said  Arnott.  'We 
may  be  a  bit  ragged.  I've  never  conducted  two 
hundred  and  fifty  performers  before.'  He  pulled 
out  the  couplers,  and  struck  a  full  chord  on  the 
Service  Communicators. 

The  beams  of  light  leaped  down  again,  and 
danced,  solemnly  and  awfully,  a  stilt-dance,  sweep- 
ing thirty  or  forty  miles  left  and  right  at  each 
stiff-legged  kick,  while  the  darkness  delivered 
itself — there  is  no  scale  to  measure  against  that 
utterance — of  the  tune  to  which  they  kept  time. 
Certain  notes — one  learnt  to  expect  them  with 
terror  —  cut  through  one's  marrow,  but,  after 
three  minutes,  thought  and  emotion  passed  in 
indescribable  agony. 

We  saw,  we  heard,  but  I  think  we  were  in 
some  sort  swooning.  The  two  hundred  and  fifty 
beams  shifted,  re-formed,  straddled  and  split, 
narrowed,  widened,  rippled  in  ribbons,  broke  into 
a  thousand  white  -  hot  parallel  lines,  melted  and 
revolved  in  interwoven  rings  like  old-fashioned 
engine-turning,  flung  up  to  the  zenith,  made  as  if 
to  descend  and  renew  the  torment,  halted  at  the 
last  instant,  twizzled  insanely  round  the  horizon, 
and  vanished,  to  bring  back  for  the  hundredth 
time  darkness  more  shattering  than  their  instantly 
renewed  light  over  all  Illinois.  Then  the  tune 
and  lights  ceased  together,  and  we  heard  one 
single  devastating  wail  that  shook  all  the  horizon 
as  a  rubbed  wet  finger  shakes  the  rim  of  a  bowl. 

'  Ah,  that  is  my  new  siren,'  said  Pirolo. 
*  You  can  break  an  iceberg  in  half,  if  you  find 
the  proper  pitch.     They  will  whistle  by  squadrons 


1 6       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

now.  It  is  the  wind  through  pierced  shutters  in 
the  bows.' 

I  had  collapsed  beside  Dragomiroff,  broken 
and  snivelling  feebly,  because  I  had  been  delivered 
before  my  time  to  all  the  terrors  of  Judgment 
Day,  and  the  Archangels  of  the  Resurrection  were 
hailing  me  naked  across  the  Universe  to  the  sound 
of  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

Then  I  saw  De  Forest  smacking  Arnott's 
helmet  with  his  open  hand.  The  wailing  died 
down  in  a  long  shriek  as  a  black  shadow  swooped 
past  us,  and  returned  to  her  place  above  the  lower 
clouds. 

'  I  hate  to  interrupt  a  specialist  when  he's 
enjoying  himself,'  said  De  Forest.  '  But,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  all  Illinois  has  been  asking  us  to 
stop  for  these  last  fifteen  seconds.' 

'  What  a  pity.'  Arnott  slipped  off  his  mask. 
'  I  wanted  you  to  hear  us  really  hum.  Our  lower 
C  can  lift  street-paving.' 

1  It  is  Hell — Hell ! '  cried  Dragomiroff,  and 
sobbed  aloud. 

Arnott  looked  away  as  he  answered  : 

*  It's  a  few  thousand  volts  ahead  of  the  old 
shoot-'em-and-sink-'em  game,  but  I  should  scarcely 
call  it  that.     What  shall  I  tell  the  Fleet,  sir  ? ' 

'  Tell  'em  we're  very  pleased  and  impressed. 
I  don't  think  they  need  wait  on  any  longer.  There 
isn't  a  spark  left  down  there.'  De  Forest  pointed. 
'They'll  be  deaf  and  blind.' 

'  Oh;  I  think  not,  sir.  The  demonstration 
lasted  less  than  ten  minutes.' 

1  Marvellous ! '    Takahira  sighed.       f  I  should 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  17 

have  said  it  was  half  a  night.     Now,  shall  we  go 
down  and  pick  up  the  pieces  ? ' 

4  But  first  a  small  drink,'  said  Pirolo.  '  The 
Board  must  not  arrive  weeping  at  its  own  works.' 

'  I  am  an  old  fool — an  old  fool !  '  Dragomiroff 
began  piteously.  '  I  did  not  know  what  would 
happen.  It  is  all  new  to  me.  We  reason  with 
them  in  Little  Russia.' 

Chicago  North  landing-tower  was  unlighted, 
and  Arnott  worked  his  ship  into  the  clips  by  her 
own  lights.  As  soon  as  these  broke  out  we  heard 
groanings  of  horror  and  appeal  from  many  people 
below. 

(  All  right,'  shouted  Arnott  into  the  darkness. 
*  We  aren't  beginning  again  !  '  We  descended 
by  the  stairs,  to  find  ourselves  knee-deep  in  a 
grovelling  crowd,  some  crying  that  they  were 
blind,  others  beseeching  us  not  to  make  any  more 
noises,  but  the  greater  part  writhing  face  down- 
ward, their  hands  or  their  caps  before  their  eyes. 

It  was  Pirolo  who  came  to  our  rescue.  He 
climbed  the  side  of  a  surfacing-machine,  and  there, 
gesticulating  as  though  they  could  see,  made  ora- 
tion to  those  afflicted  people  of  Illinois. 

'  You  stchewpids  !  '  he  began.  '  There  is  no- 
thing to  fuss  for.  Of  course,  your  eyes  will  smart 
and  be  red  to-morrow.  You  will  look  as  if  you 
and  your  wives  had  drunk  too  much,  but  in  a  little 
while  you  will  see  again  as  well  as  before.  I  tell 
you  this,  and  I — /  am  Pirolo.     Victor  Pirolo  ! ' 

The  crowd  with  one  accord  shuddered,  for 
many  legends  attach  to  Victor  Pirolo  of  Foggia, 
deep  in  the  secrets  of  God. 

c 


1 8       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

•  Pirolo  ? '  An  unsteady  voice  lifted  itself. 
'Then  tell  us  was  there  anything  except  light  in 
those  lights  of  yours  just  now? ' 

The  question  was  repeated  from  every  corner 
of  the  darkness. 

Pirolo  laughed. 

'  No  !  '  he  thundered.  (Why  have  small  men 
such  large  voices  ?)  '  I  give  you  my  word  and 
the  Board's  word  that  there  was  nothing  except 
light — just  light  !  You  stchewpids  !  Your  birth- 
rate is  too  low  already  as  it  is.  Some  day  I  must 
invent  something  to  send  it  up,  but  send  it  down 
— never  ! ' 

'  Is  that  true  ?  —  We  thought  —  somebody 
said ' 

One  could  feel  the  tension  relax  all  round. 

'  You  too  big  fools,'  Pirolo  cried.  '  You  could 
have  sent  us  a  call  and  we  would  have  told  you.' 

'  Send  you  a  call ! '  a  deep  voice  shouted.  '  I 
wish  you  had  been  at  our  end  of  the  wire.' 

'  I'm  glad  I  wasn't,'  said  De  Forest.  c  It  was 
bad  enough  from  behind  the  lamps.  Never  mind  ! 
It's  over  now.  Is  there  any  one  here  I  can  talk 
business  with  ?     I'm  De  Forest — for  the  Board.' 

1  You  might  begin  with  me,  for  one — I'm 
Mayor,'  the  bass  voice  replied. 

A  big  man  rose  unsteadily  from  the  street,  and 
staggered  towards  us  where  we  sat  on  the  broad 
turf-edging,  in  front  of  the  garden  fences. 

'  I  ought  to  be  the  first  on  my  feet.  Am  I  ? ' 
said  he. 

'  Yes,'  said  De  Forest,  and  steadied  him  as  he 
dropped  down  beside  us. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  19 

'  Hello,  Andy.      Is  that  you?  '  a  voice  called. 

'  Excuse  me,'  said  the  Mayor ;  f  that  sounds 
like  my  Chief  of  Police,  Bluthner  ! ' 

'  Bluthner  it  is ;  and  here's  Mulligan  and 
Keefe — on  their  feet.' 

1  Bring  'em  up  please,  Blut.  We're  supposed 
to  be  the  Four  in  charge  of  this  hamlet.  What 
we  says,  goes.     And,  De  Forest,  what  do  you  say  ? ' 

'  Nothing — yet,'  De  Forest  answered,  as  we 
made  room  for  the  panting,  reeling  men.  'Touve 
cut  out  of  system.     Well  ? ' 

1  Tell  the  steward  to  send  down  drinks,  please,' 
Arnott  whispered  to  an  orderly  at  his  side. 

'  Good  ! '  said  the  Mayor,  smacking  his  dry 
lips.  '  Now  I  suppose  we  can  take  it,  De  Forest, 
that  henceforward  the  Board  will  administer  us 
direct  ? ' 

'  Not  if  the  Board  can  avoid  it,'  De  Forest 
laughed.  '  The  A. B.C.  is  responsible  for  the 
planetary  traffic  only.' 

*  And  all  that  that  implies?  The  big  Four 
who  ran  Chicago  chanted  their  Magna  Charta  like 
children  at  school. 

1  Well,  get  on,'  said  De  Forest  wearily.  'What 
is  your  silly  trouble  anyway  ? ' 

'  Too  much  dam'  Democracy/  said  the  Mayor, 
laying  his  hand  on  De  Forest's  knee. 

'So?  I  thought  Illinois  had  had  her  dose  of  that.' 

'  She  has.  That's  why.  Blut,  what  did  you  do 
with  our  prisoners  last  night  ?  ' 

'  Locked  'em  in  the  water-tower  to  prevent 
the  women  killing  'em,'  the  Chief  of  Police  replied. 
1  I'm  too  blind  to  move  just  yet,  but ' 


20      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Arnott,  send  some  of  your  people,  please, 
and  fetch  'em  along,'  said  De  Forest. 

'They're  triple- circuited,'  the  Mayor  called. 
'  You'll  have  to  blow  out  three  fuses.'  He 
turned  to  De  Forest,  his  large  outline  just  visible 
in  the  paling  darkness.  '  I  hate  to  throw  any 
more  work  on  the  Board.  I'm  an  administrator 
myself,  but  we've  had  a  little  fuss  with  our 
Serviles.  What  ?  In  a  big  city  there's  bound 
to  be  a  few  men  and  women  who  can't  live 
without  listening  to  themselves,  and  who  prefer 
drinking  out  of  pipes  they  don't  own  both 
ends  of.  They  inhabit  flats  and  hotels  all  the 
year  round.  They  say  it  saves  'em  trouble. 
Anyway,  it  gives  'em  more  time  to  make  trouble 
for  their  neighbours.  We  call  'em  Serviles  locally. 
And  they  are  apt  to  be  tuberculous.' 

'  Just  so ! '  said  the  man  called  Mulligan. 
'  Transportation  is  Civilisation.  Democracy  is  Dis- 
ease.    I've  proved  it  by  the  blood-test,  every  time.' 

'  Mulligan's  our  Health  Officer,  and  a  one- 
idea  man,'  said  the  Mayor,  laughing.  '  But  it's 
true  that  most  Serviles  haven't  much  control. 
They  will  talk  ;  and  when  people  take  to  talking 
as  a  business,  anything  may  arrive — mayn't  it, 
De  Forest  ? ' 

'  Anything — except  the  facts  of  the  case,'  said 
De  Forest,  laughing. 

'  I'll  give  you  those  in  a  minute,'  said  the 
Mayor.  *  Our  Serviles  got  to  talking — first  in 
their  houses  and  then  on  the  streets,  telling  men 
and  women  how  to  manage  their  own  affairs. 
(You    can't    teach    a    Servile    not    to    finger    his 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  21 

neighbour's  soul.)  That's  invasion  of  privacy,  of 
course,  but  in  Chicago  we'll  suffer  anything  sooner 
than  make  crowds.  Nobody  took  much  notice, 
and  so  I  let  'em  alone.  My  fault !  I  was  warned 
there  would  be  trouble,  but  there  hasn't  been  a 
crowd  or  murder  in  Illinois  for  nineteen  years.' 

1  Twenty-two,'  said  his  Chief  of  Police. 

1  Likely.  Anyway,  we'd  forgot  such  things. 
So,  from  talking  in  the  houses  and  on  the  streets, 
our  Serviles  go  to  calling  a  meeting  at  the  Old 
Market  yonder.'  He  nodded  across  the  square 
where  the  wrecked  buildings  heaved  up  grey  in 
the  dawn-glimmer  behind  the  square-cased  statue 
of  The  Negro  in  Flames.  '  There's  nothing  to 
prevent  any  one  calling  meetings  except  that  it's 
against  human  nature  to  stand  in  a  crowd,  besides 
being  bad  for  the  health.  I  ought  to  have  known 
by  the  way  our  men  and  women  attended  that 
first  meeting  that  trouble  was  brewing.  There 
were  as  many  as  a  thousand  in  the  market-place, 
touching  each  other.  Touching  !  Then  the 
Serviles  turned  in  all  tongue-switches  and  talked, 
and  we •' 

*  What  did  they  talk  about  ? '  said  Takahira. 

1  First,  how  badly  things  were  managed  in  the 
city.  That  pleased  us  Four — we  were  on  the 
platform — because  we  hoped  to  catch  one  or  two 
good  men  for  City  work.  You  know  how  rare 
executive  capacity  is.  Even  if  we  didn't  it's — it's 
refreshing  to  find  any  one  interested  enough  in  our 
job  to  damn  our  eyes.  You  don't  know  what  it 
means  to  work,  year  in,  year  out,  without  a  spark 
of  difference  with  a  living  soul.* 


22       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Oh,  don't  we  !  '  said  De  Forest.  '  There  are 
times  on  the  Board  when  we'd  give  our  positions 
if  any  one  would  kick  us  out  and  take  hold  of 
things  themselves.' 

*  But  they  won't,'  said  the  Mayor  ruefully. 
'  I  assure  you,  sir,  we  Four  have  done  things  in 
Chicago,  in  the  hope  of  rousing  people,  that  would 
have  discredited  Nero.  But  what  do  they  say  ? 
"  Very  good,  Andy.  Have  it  your  own  way. 
Anything's  better  than  a  crowd.  I'll  go  back  to 
my  land."  You  can't  do  anything  with  folk  who 
can  go  where  they  please,  and  don't  want  anything 
on  God's  earth  except  their  own  way.  There  isn't 
a  kick  or  a  kicker  left  on  the  Planet.' 

'Then  I  suppose  that  little  shed  yonder  fell 
down  by  itself  ? '  said  De  Forest.  We  could  see 
the  bare  and  still  smoking  ruins,  and  hear  the  slag- 
pools  crackle  as  they  hardened  and  set. 

'  Oh,  that's  only  amusement.  'Tell  you  later. 
As  I  was  saying,  our  Serviles  held  the  meeting, 
and  pretty  soon  we  had  to  ground -circuit  the 
platform  to  save  'em  from  being  killed.  And 
that  didn't  make  our  people  any  more  pacific.' 

'  How  d'you  mean  ?  '  I  ventured  to  ask. 

1  If  you've  ever  been  ground-circuited,'  said 
the  Mayor,  '  you'll  know  it  don't  improve  any 
man's  temper  to  be  held  up  straining  against 
nothing.  No,  sir  !  Eight  or  nine  hundred  folk 
kept  pawing  and  buzzing  like  flies  in  treacle  for 
two  hours,  while  a  pack  of  perfectly  safe  Serviles 
invades  their  mental  and  spiritual  privacy,  may  be 
amusing  to  watch,  but  they  are  not  pleasant  to 
handle  afterwards.' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  23 

Pirolo  chuckled. 

1  Our  folk  own  themselves.  They  were  of 
opinion  things  were  going  too  far  and  too  fiery. 
I  warned  the  Serviles  ;  but  they're  born  house- 
dwellers.  Unless  a  fact  hits  'em  on  the  head, 
they  cannot  see  it.  Would  you  believe  me,  they 
went  on  to  talk  of  what  they  called  "  popular 
government "  ?  They  did  !  They  wanted  us  to 
go  back  to  the  old  Voodoo-business  of  voting 
with  papers  and  wooden  boxes,  and  word-drunk 
people  and  printed  formulas,  and  news-sheets ! 
They  said  they  practised  it  among  themselves 
about  what  they'd  have  to  eat  in  their  flats  and 
hotels.  Yes,  sir!  They  stood  up  behind  Bluthner's 
doubled  ground-circuits,  and  they  said  that,  in 
this  present  year  of  grace,  to  self-owning  men  and 
women,  on  that  very  spot  !  Then  they  finished ' 
— he  lowered  his  voice  cautiously — '  by  talking 
about  "The  People."  And  then  Bluthner  he 
had  to  sit  up  all  night  in  charge  of  the  circuits 
because  he  couldn't  trust  his  men  to  keep  'em 
shut.' 

*  It  was  trying  'em  too  high,'  the  Chief  of  Police 
broke  in.  '  But  we  couldn't  hold  the  crowd  ground- 
circuited  for  ever.  I  gathered  in  all  the  Serviles 
on  charge  of  crowd-making,  and  put  'em  in  the 
water-tower,  and  then  I  let  things  cut  loose.  I 
had  to !     The  District  lit  like  a  sparked  gas-tank ! ' 

'  The  news  was  out  over  seven  degrees  of 
country,'  the  Mayor  continued;  'and  when  once 
it's  a  question  of  invasion  of  privacy,  good-bye  to 
right  and  reason  in  Illinois  !  They  began  turning 
out  traffic-lights  and   locking   up   landing-towers 


24      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

on  Thursday  night.  Friday,  they  stopped  all 
traffic  and  asked  for  the  Board  to  take  over. 
Then  they  wanted  to  clean  Chicago  off  the  side 
of  the  Lake  and  rebuild  elsewhere — just  for  a 
souvenir  of  "  The  People  "  that  the  Serviles  talked 
about.  I  suggested  that  they  should  slag  the 
Old  Market  where  the  meeting  was  held,  while  I 
turned  in  a  call  to  you  all  on  the  Board.  That 
kept  'em  quiet  till  you  came  along.  And — and 
now  you  can  take  hold  of  the  situation.' 

'  'Any  chance  of  their  quieting  down  ? '  De 
Forest  asked. 

*  You  can  try/  said  the  Mayor. 

De  Forest  raised  his  voice  in  the  face  of  the 
reviving  crowd  that  had  edged  in  towards  us. 
Day  was  come. 

*  Don't  you  think  this  business  can  be 
arranged  ? '  he  began.  But  there  was  a  roar  of 
angry  voices  : 

'  We've  finished  with  Crowds !  We  aren't 
going  back  to  the  Old  Days !  Take  us  over ! 
Take  the  Serviles  away  !  Administer  direct  or 
we'll  kill  'em  !     Down  with  The  People  !  ' 

An  attempt  was  made  to  begin  MacDonough's 
Song.  It  got  no  further  than  the  first  line,  for 
the  Victor  Pirolo  sent  down  a  warning  drone  on 
one  stopped  horn.  A  wrecked  side-wall  of  the 
Old  Market  tottered  and  fell  inwards  on  the  slag- 
pools.  None  spoke  or  moved  till  the  last  of  the 
dust  had  settled  down  again,  turning  the  steel 
case  of  Salati's  Statue  ashy  grey. 

'You  see  you'll  just  have  to  take  us  over,' 
the  Mayor  whispered. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  25 

De  Forest  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

c  You  talk  as  if  executive  capacity  could  be 
snatched  out  of  the  air  like  so  much  horse-power. 
Can't  you  manage  yourselves  on  any  terms  ? '  he 
said. 

'  We  can,  if  you  say  so.  It  will  only  cost 
those  few  lives  to  begin  with.' 

The  Mayor  pointed  across  the  square,  where 
Arnott's  men  guided  a  stumbling  group  of  ten  or 
twelve  men  and  women  to  the  lake  front  and 
halted  them  under  the  Statue. 

*  Now  I  think,'  said  Takahira  under  his  breath, 
4  there  will  be  trouble.' 

The  mass  in  front  of  us  growled  like  beasts. 

At  that  moment  the  sun  rose  clear,  and  revealed 
the  blinking  assembly  to  itself.  As  soon  as  it 
realised  that  it  was  a  crowd  we  saw  the  shiver  of 
horror  and  mutual  repulsion  shoot  across  it  pre- 
cisely as  the  steely  flaws  shot  across  the  lake 
outside.  Nothing  was  said,  and,  being  half  blind, 
of  course  it  moved  slowly.  Yet  in  less  than 
fifteen  minutes  most  of  that  vast  multitude — three 
thousand  at  the  lowest  count — melted  away  like 
frost  on  south  eaves.  The  remnant  stretched 
themselves  on  the  grass,  where  a  crowd  feels  and 
looks  less  like  a  crowd. 

'  These  mean  business,'  the  Mayor  whispered 
to  Takahira.  *  There  are  a  goodish  few  women 
there  who've  borne  children.     I  don't  like  it.' 

The  morning  draught  off  the  lake  stirred  the 
trees  round  us  with  promise  of  a  hot  day  ;  the 
sun  reflected  itself  dazzlingly  on  the  canister- 
shaped  covering  of  Salati's  Statue  ;    cocks  crew  in 


26      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  gardens,  and  we  could  hear  gate-latches  click- 
ing in  the  distance  as  people  stumblingly  resought 
their  homes. 

'  I'm  afraid  there  won't  be  any  morning 
deliveries,'  said  De  Forest.  '  We  rather  upset 
things  in  the  country  last  night.' 

'  That  makes  no  odds,'  the  Mayor  returned. 
'  We're  all  provisioned  for  six  months.  We  take 
no  chances.' 

Nor,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  does  any 
one  else.  It  must  be  three-quarters  of  a  genera- 
tion since  any  house  or  city  faced  a  food  shortage. 
Yet  is  there  house  or  city  on  the  Planet  to-day 
that  has  not  half  a  year's  provisions  laid  in  ?  We 
are  like  the  shipwrecked  seamen  in  the  old  books, 
who,  having  once  nearly  starved  to  death,  ever 
afterwards  hide  away  bits  of  food  and  biscuit. 
Truly  we  trust  no  Crowds,  nor  system  based  on 
Crowds  ! 

De  Forest  waited  till  the  last  footstep  had  died 
away.  Meantime  the  prisoners  at  the  base  of  the 
Statue  shuffled,  posed  and  fidgeted,  with  the 
shamelessness  of  quite  little  children.  None  of 
them  were  more  than  six  feet  high,  and  many  of 
them  were  as  grey-haired  as  the  ravaged,  harassed 
heads  of  old  pictures.  They  huddled  together  in 
actual  touch,  while  the  crowd,  spaced  at  large 
intervals,  looked  at  them  with  congested  eyes. 

Suddenly  a  man  among  them  began  to  talk. 
The  Mayor  had  not  in  the  least  exaggerated.  It 
appeared  that  our  Planet  lay  sunk  in  slavery 
beneath  the  heel  of  the  Aerial  Board  of  Control. 
The  orator  urged  us  to  arise  in  our  might,  burst 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  27 

our  prison  doors  and  break  our  fetters  (all  his 
metaphors,  by  the  way,  were  of  the  most  medi- 
aeval). Next  he  demanded  that  every  matter  of 
daily  life,  including  most  of  the  physical  functions, 
should  be  submitted  for  decision  at  any  time  of 
the  week,  month,  or  year  to,  I  gathered,  anybody 
who  happened  to  be  passing  by  or  residing  within 
a  certain  radius,  and  that  everybody  should  forth- 
with abandon  his  concerns  to  settle  the  matter, 
first  by  crowd-making,  next  by  talking  to  the 
crowds  made,  and  lastly  by  describing  crosses  on 
pieces  of  paper,  which  rubbish  should  later  be 
counted  with  certain  mystic  ceremonies  and  oaths. 
Out  of  this  amazing  play,  he  assured  us,  would 
automatically  arise  a  higher,  nobler,  and  kinder 
world,  based — he  demonstrated  this  with  the 
awful  lucidity  of  the  insane — based  on  the  sanctity 
of  the  Crowd  and  the  villainy  of  the  single  person. 
In  conclusion,  he  called  loudly  upon  God  to 
testify  to  his  personal  merits  and  integrity.  When 
the  flow  ceased,  I  turned  bewildered  to  Takahira, 
who  was  nodding  solemnly. 

'  Quite  correct,'  said  he.  '■  It  is  all  in  the  old 
books.  He  has  left  nothing  out,  not  even  the 
war-talk.' 

1  But  I  don't  see  how  this  stuff  can  upset  a 
child,  much  less  a  district,'  I  replied. 

1  Ah,  you  are  too  young,'  said  Dragomiroff. 
1  For  another  thing,  you  are  not  a  mamma.  Please 
look  at  the  mammas.' 

Ten  or  fifteen  women  who  remained  had 
separated  themselves  from  the  silent  men,  and 
were    drawing     in     towards    the     prisoners.       It 


28       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

reminded  one  of  the  stealthy  encircling,  before 
the  rush  in  at  the  quarry,  of  wolves  round  musk- 
oxen  in  the  North.  The  prisoners  saw,  and  drew 
together  more  closely.  The  Mayor  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands  for  an  instant.  De  Forest, 
bareheaded,  stepped  forward  between  the  prisoners 
and  the  slowly,  stiffly  moving  line. 

*  That's  all  very  interesting,'  he  said  to  the 
dry-lipped  orator.  'But  the  point  seems  that 
you've  been  making  crowds  and  invading  privacy.' 

A  woman  stepped  forward,  and  would  have 
spoken,  but  there  was  a  quick  assenting  murmur 
from  the  men,  who  realised  that  De  Forest  was 
trying  to  pull  the  situation  down  to  ground-line. 

'  Yes  !  Yes ! '  they  cried.  '  We  cut  out 
because  they  made  crowds  and  invaded  privacy  ! 
Stick  to  that !  Keep  on  that  switch  !  Lift  the 
Serviles  out  of  this !  The  Board's  in  charge  ! 
Hsh!' 

'  Yes,  the  Board's  in  charge,'  said  De  Forest. 
'  I'll  take  formal  evidence  of  crowd-making  if  you 
like,  but  the  Members  of  the  Board  can  testify  to 
it.     Will  that  do  ? ' 

The  women  had  closed  in  another  pace,  with 
hands  that  clenched  and  unclenched  at  their  sides. 

'  Good  !  Good  enough ! '  the  men  cried. 
1  We're  content.     Only  take  them  away  quickly.' 

*  Come  along  up ! '  said  De  Forest  to  the 
captives.      '  Breakfast  is  quite  ready.' 

It  appeared,  however,  that  they  did  not  wish 
to  go.  They  intended  to  remain  in  Chicago  and 
make  crowds.  They  pointed  out  that  De  Forest's 
proposal  was  gross  invasion  of  privacy. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  29 

'  My  dear  fellow,'  said  Pirolo  to  the  most 
voluble  of  the  leaders,  *  you  hurry,  or  your  crowd 
that  can't  be  wrong  will  kill  you  ! ' 

'  But  that  would  be  murder,'  answered  the 
believer  in  crowds ;  and  there  was  a  roar  of 
laughter  from  all  sides  that  seemed  to  show  the 
crisis  had  broken. 

A  woman  stepped  forward  from  the  line  of 
women,  laughing,  I  protest,  as  merrily  as  any  of 
the  company.  One  hand,  of  course,  shaded  her 
eyes,  the  other  was  at  her  throat. 

'  Oh,  they  needn't  be  afraid  of  being  killed  !  ' 
she  called. 

'  Not  in  the  least,'  said  De  Forest.  '  But  don't 
you  think  that,  now  the  Board's  in  charge,  you 
might  go  home  while  we  get  these  people  away  ? ' 

'  I  shall  be  home  long  before  that.  It — it  has 
been  rather  a  trying  day.' 

She  stood  up  to  her  full  height,  dwarfing  even 
De  Forest's  six-foot-eight,  and  smiled,  with  eyes 
closed  against  the  fierce  light. 

1  Yes,  rather,'  said  De  Forest.  '  I'm  afraid  you 
feel  the  glare  a  little.     We'll  have  the  ship  down.' 

He  motioned  to  the  Pirolo  to  drop  between  us 
and  the  sun,  and  at  the  same  time  to  loop-circuit 
the  prisoners,  who  were  a  trifle  unsteady.  We 
saw  them  stiffen  to  the  current  where  they  stood. 
The  woman's  voice  went  on,  sweet  and  deep  and 
unshaken  : 

'  I  don't  suppose  you  men  realise  how  much 
this — this  sort  of  thing  means  to  a  woman.  I've 
borne  three.  We  women  don't  want  our  children 
given  to  Crowds.     It  must  be  an  inherited  instinct. 


30      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Crowds  make  trouble.  They  bring  back  the  Old 
Days.  Hate,  fear,  blackmail,  publicity,  "  The 
People" — That!  That!  That !  *  She  pointed  to 
the  Statue,  and  the  crowd  growled  once  more. 

'  Yes,  if  they  are  allowed  to  go  on,'  said  De 
Forest.     «  But  this  little  affair ' 

'  It  means  so  much  to  us  women  that  this — this 
little  affair  should  never  happen  again.  Of  course, 
never's  a  big  word,  but  one  feels  so  strongly  that 
it  is  important  to  stop  crowds  at  the  very  beginning. 
Those  creatures ' — she  pointed  with  her  left  hand 
at  the  prisoners  swaying  like  seaweed  in  a  tideway 
as  the  circuit  pulled  them — '  those  people  have 
friends  and  wives  and  children  in  the  city  and  else- 
where. One  doesn't  want  anything  done  to  them, 
you  know.  It's  terrible  to  force  a  human  being 
out  of  fifty  or  sixty  years  of  good  life.  I'm  only 
forty  myself.  /  know.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
one  feels  that  an  example  should  be  made,  because 
no  price  is  too  heavy  to  pay  if — if  these  people  and 
all  that  they  imply  can  be  put  an  end  to.  Do  you 
quite  understand,  or  would  you  be  kind  enough  to 
tell  your  men  to  take  the  casing  off  the  Statue  ? 
It's  worth  looking  at.' 

*  I  understand  perfectly.  But  I  don't  think 
anybody  here  wants  to  see  the  Statue  on  an  empty 
stomach.  Excuse  me  one  moment.'  De  Forest 
called  up  to  the  ship,  *  A  flying  loop  ready  on  the 
port  side,  if  you  please.'  Then  to  the  woman  he 
said  with  some  crispness,  *  You  might  leave  us  a 
little  discretion  in  the  matter.' 

'  Oh,  of  course.  Thank  you  for  being  so  patient. 
I  know  my  arguments   are    silly,  but '     She 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  31 

half  turned  away  and  went  on  in  a  changed  voice, 
'  Perhaps  this  will  help  you  to  decide.' 

She  threw  out  her  right  arm  with  a  knife  in  it. 
Before  the  blade  could  be  returned  to  her  throat 
or  her  bosom  it  was  twitched  from  her  grip,  sparked 
as  it  flew  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  ship  above,  and 
fell  flashing  in  the  sunshine  at  the  foot  of  the  Statue 
fifty  yards  away.  The  outflung  arm  was  arrested, 
rigid  as  a  bar  for  an  instant,  till  the  releasing  cir- 
cuit permitted  her  to  bring  it  slowly  to  her  side. 
The  other  women  shrank  back  silent  among 
the  men. 

Pirolo  rubbed  his  hands,  and  Takahira  nodded. 

'  That  was  clever  of  you,  De  Forest,'  said  he. 

'  What  a  glorious  pose ! '  DragomirofF  mur- 
mured, for  the  frightened  woman  was  on  the  edge 
of  tears. 

'  Why  did  you  stop  me  ?  I  would  have  done 
it ! '  she  cried. 

'  I  have  no  doubt  you  would,'  said  De  Forest. 
*  But  we  can't  waste  a  life  like  yours  on  these 
people.  I  hope  the  arrest  didn't  sprain  your  wrist ; 
it's  so  hard  to  regulate  a  flying  loop.  But  I  think 
you  are  quite  right  about  those  persons'  women 
and  children.  We'll  take  them  all  away  with  us 
if  you  promise  not  to  do  anything  stupid  to 
yourself.' 

'  I  promise — I  promise.'  She  controlled  herself 
with  an  effort.  *  But  it  is  so  important  to  us 
women.  We  know  what  it  means  ;  and  I  thought 
if  you  saw  I  was  in  earnest ' 

'  I  saw  you  were,  and  you've  gained  your  point. 
I  shall  take  all  your  Serviles  away  with  me  at  once. 


32       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

The  Mayor  will  make  lists  of  their  friends  and 
families  in  the  city  and  the  district,  and  he'll  ship 
them  after  us  this  afternoon.' 

*  Sure,'  said  the  Mayor,  rising  to  his  feet. 
1  Keefe,  if  you  can  see,  hadn't  you  better  finish 
levelling  oft  the  Old  Market?  It  don't  look 
sightly  the  way  it  is  now,  and  we  shan't  use  it  for 
crowds  any  more.' 

*  I  think  you  had  better  wipe  out  that  Statue  as 
well,  Mr.  Mayor,'  said  De  Forest.  '  I  don't  ques- 
tion its  merits  as  a  work  of  art,  but  I  believe  it's  a 
shade  morbid.' 

'  Certainly,  sir.  Oh,  Keefe  !  Slag  the  Nigger 
before  you  go  on  to  fuse  the  Market.  I'll  get  to 
the  Communicators  and  tell  the  District  that  the 
Board  is  in  charge.  Are  you  making  any  special 
appointments,  sir  ? ' 

'  None.  We  haven't  men  to  waste  on  these 
backwoods.  Carry  on  as  before,  but  under  the 
Board.  Arnott,  run  your  Serviles  aboard,  please. 
Ground  ship  and  pass  them  through  the  bilge- 
doors.  We'll  wait  till  we've  finished  with  this 
work  of  art.' 

The  prisoners  trailed  past  him,  talking  fluently, 
but  unable  to  gesticulate  in  the  drag  of  the  current. 
Then  the  surfacers  rolled  up,  two  on  each  side 
of  the  Statue.  With  one  accord  the  spectators 
looked  elsewhere,  but  there  was  no  need.  Keefe 
turned  on  fall  power,  and  the  thing  simply  melted 
within  its  case.  All  I  saw  was  a  surge  of  white- 
hot  metal  pouring  over  the  plinth,  a  glimpse  of 
Salati's  inscription,  'To  the  Eternal  Memory  of 
the  Justice  of  the  People,'  ere  the  stone  base  itself 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  32 

cracked  and  powdered  into  finest  lime.  The 
crowd  cheered. 

'Thank  you,'  said  De  Forest  ;  'but  we  want 
our  breakfasts,  and  I  expect  you  do  too.  Good-bye, 
Mr.  Mayor  !  Delighted  to  see  you  at  any  time, 
but  I  hope  I  shan't  have  to,  officially,  for  the  next 
thirty  years.  Good-bye,  madam.  Yes.  We're 
all  given  to  nerves  nowadays.  I  suffer  from 
them  myself.  Good-bye,  gentlemen  all !  You're 
under  the  tyrannous  heel  of  the  Board  from  this 
moment,  but  if  ever  you  feel  like  breaking  your 
fetters  you've  only  to  let  us  know.  This  is  no 
treat  to  us.     Good  luck  ! ' 

We  embarked  amid  shouts,  and  did  not  check 
our  lift  till  they  had  dwindled  into  whispers. 
Then  De  Forest  flung  himself  on  the  chartroom 
divan  and  mopped  his  forehead. 

'  I  don't  mind  men,'  he  panted,  '  but  women 
are  the  devil ! ' 

'  Still  the  devil,'  said  Pirolo  cheerfully.  '  That 
one  would  have  suicided.' 

'  I  know  it.  That  was  why  I  signalled  for  the 
flying  loop  to  be  clapped  on  her.  I  owe  you  an 
apology  for  that,  Arnott.  I  hadn't  time  to  catch 
your  eye,  and  you  were  busy  with  our  caitiffs. 
By  the  way,  who  actually  answered  my  signal? 
It  was  a  smart  piece  of  work.' 

'  Ilroy,'  said  Arnott ;  '  but  he  overloaded  the 
wave.  It  may  be  pretty  gallery-work  to  knock 
a  knife  out  of  a  lady's  hand,  but  didn't  you 
notice  how  she  rubbed  'em  ?  He  scotched  her 
fingers.     Slovenly,  I  call  it.' 

'  Far  be  it  from  me   to   interfere  with   Fleet 


34       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

discipline,  but  don't  be  too  hard  on  the  boy.  If 
that  woman  had  killed  herself  they  would  have 
killed  every  Servile  and  everything  related  to  a 
Servile  throughout  the  district  by  nightfall.' 

'  That  was  what  she  was  playing  for,'  Takahira 
said.  '  And  with  our  Fleet  gone  we  could  have 
done  nothing  to  hold  them.' 

*  I  may  be  ass  enough  to  walk  into  a  ground- 
circuit,'  said  Arnott,  '  but  I  don't  dismiss  my 
Fleet  till  I'm  reasonably  sure  that  trouble  is  over. 
They're  in  position  still,  and  I  intend  to  keep 
'em  there  till  the  Serviles  are  shipped  out  of  the 
district.  That  last  little  crowd  meant  murder, 
my  friends.' 

'  Nerves  !  All  nerves  ! '  said  Pirolo.  '  You 
cannot  argue  with  agoraphobia.' 

*  And  it  is  not  as  if  they  had  seen  much  dead 
— or  is  it  ? '  said  Takahira. 

'  In  all  my  ninety  years  I  have  never  seen  death.' 
Dragomiroff  spoke  as  one  who  would  excuse  him- 
self.    'Perhaps  that  was  why — last  night ' 

Then  it  came  out  as  we  sat  over  breakfast,  that, 
with  the  exception  of  Arnott  and  Pirolo,  none  of 
us  had  ever  seen  a  corpse,  or  knew  in  what 
manner  the  spirit  passes. 

'  We're  a  nice  lot  to  flap  about  governing  the 
Planet,'  De  Forest  laughed.  '  I  confess,  now  it's 
all  over,  that  my  main  fear  was  I  mightn't  be  able 
to  pull  it  off  without  losing  a  life.' 

'  I  thought  of  that  too,'  said  Arnott  ;  '  but 
there's  no  death  reported,  and  I've  inquired 
everywhere.  What  are  we  supposed  to  do  with 
our  passengers  ?     I've  fed  'em.' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  3$ 

*  We're  between  two  switches,'  De  Forest 
drawled.  '  If  we  drop  them  in  any  place  that 
isn't  under  the  Board,  the  natives  will  make  their 
presence  an  excuse  for  cutting  out,  same  as  Illinois 
did,  and  forcing  the  Board  to  take  over.  If  we 
drop  them  in  any  place  under  the  Board's  control 
they'll  be  killed  as  soon  as  our  backs  are  turned.' 

'  If  you  say  so,'  said  Pirolo  thoughtfully,  '  I 
can  guarantee  that  they  will  become  extinct  in 
process  of  time,  quite  happily.  What  is  their 
birth-rate  now  ? ' 

*  Go  down  and  ask  'em,'  said  De  Forest. 

'  I  think  they  might  become  nervous  and  tear 
me  to  bits,'  the  philosopher  of  Foggia  replied. 

< Not  really?     Well?' 

'  Open  the  bilge-doors,'  said  Takahira  with  a 
downward  jerk  of  the  thumb. 

'  Scarcely — after  all  the  trouble  we've  taken  to 
save  'em,'  said  De  Forest. 

'  Try  London,'  Arnott  suggested.  '  You  could 
turn  Satan  himself  loose  there,  and  they'd  only 
ask  him  to  dinner.' 

1  Good  man !  You've  given  me  an  idea. 
Vincent !  Oh,  Vincent  ! '  He  threw  the  General 
Communicator  open  so  that  we  could  all  hear, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  chartroom  filled  with  the 
rich,  fruity  voice  of  Leopold  Vincent,  who  has 
purveyed  all  London  her  choicest  amusements 
for  the  last  thirty  years.  We  answered  with 
expectant  grins,  as  though  we  were  actually  in 
the  stalls  of,  say,  the  Combination  on  a  first  night. 

'  We've  picked  up  something  in  your  line,' 
De  Forest  began. 


36       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

•  That's  good,  dear  man.  If  it's  old  enough. 
There's  nothing  to  beat  the  old  things  for  business 
purposes.  Have  you  seen  London,  Chatham,  and 
Dover  at  Earl's  Court  ?  No  ?  1  thought  I 
missed  you  there.  Im-mense  !  I've  had  the  real 
steam  locomotive  engines  built  from  the  old 
designs  and  the  iron  rails  cast  specially  by  hand. 
Cloth  cushions  in  the  carriages,  too  !  Im-mense  ! 
And  paper  railway  tickets.     And  Polly  Milton.' 

'  Polly  Milton  back  again ! '  said  Arnott 
rapturously.  '  Book  me  two  stalls  for  to-morrow 
night.     What's  she  singing  now,  bless  her  ? ' 

'  The  old  songs.  Nothing  comes  up  to  the 
old  touch.  Listen  to  this,  dear  men.'  Vincent 
carolled  with  flourishes  : 

Oh,  cruel  lamps  of  London, 
If  tears  your  light  could  drown, 
Your  victims'  eyes  would  weep  them, 
Oh,  lights  of  London  Town  ! 

*  Then  they  weep.' 

'  You  see  ? '  Pirolo  waved  his  hands  at  us. 
'  The  old  world  always  weeped  when  it  saw  crowds 
together.  It  did  not  know  why,  but  it  weeped. 
We  know  why,  but  we  do  not  weep,  except  when 
we  pay  to  be  made  to  by  fat,  wicked  old  Vincent.' 

'  Old,  yourself !  '  Vincent  laughed.  '  I'm  a 
public  benefactor,  I  keep  the  world  soft  and 
united.' 

'  And  I'm  De  Forest  of  the  Board,'  said  De 
Forest  acidly,  *  trying  to  get  a  little  business  done. 
As  I  was  saying,  I've  picked  up  a  few  people  in 
Chicago.' 

'  I  cut  out.     Chicago  is— — -' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  37 

'  Do  listen  !     They're  perfectly  unique.' 

1  Do  they  build  nouses  of  baked  mudblocks 
while  you  wait — eh?     That's  an  old  contact.' 

4  They're  an  untouched  primitive  community, 
with  all  the  old  ideas.' 

'  Sewing-machines  and  maypole-dances  ?  Cook- 
ing on  coal-gas  stoves,  lighting  pipes  with  matches, 
and  driving  horses  ?  Gerolstein  tried  that  last 
year.     An  absolute  blow-out  !  ' 

De  Forest  plugged  him  wrathfully,  and  poured 
out  the  story  of  our  doings  for  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours  on  the  top-note. 

1  And  they  do  it  all  in  public,'  he  concluded. 
'  You  can't  stop  'em.  The  more  public,  the 
better  they  are  pleased.  They'll  talk  for  hours — 
like  you  !      Now  you  can  come  in  again  !  ' 

'  Do  you  really  mean  they  know  how  to  vote  ?  ' 
said  Vincent.      '  Can  they  act  it  ?  ' 

1  Act  ?  It's  their  life  to  'em  !  And  you 
never  saw  such  faces !  Scarred  like  volcanoes. 
Envy,  hatred,  and  malice  in  plain  sight.  Wonder- 
fully flexible  voices.     They  weep,  too.' 

1  Aloud  ?     In  public  ? ' 

c  I  guarantee.  Not  a  spark  of  shame  or 
reticence  in  the  entire  installation.  It's  the  chance 
of  your  career." 

*  D'you  say  you've  brought  their  voting  props 
along — those  papers  and  ballot-box  things  ? ' 

'  No,  confound  you  !  I'm  not  a  luggage-lifter. 
Apply  direct  to  the  Mayor  of  Chicago.  He'll 
forward  you  everything.     Well  ? 

•  Wait  a  minute.  Did  Chicago  want  to  kill 
'em  ?     That  'ud  look  well  on  the  Communicators.' 


3 8       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Yes  !  They  were  only  rescued  with  difficulty 
from  a  howling  mob  —  if  you  know  what 
that  is.' 

'  But  I  don't,'  answered  the  Great  Vincent 
simply. 

*  Well  then,  they'll  tell  you  themselves.  They 
can  make  speeches  hours  long.' 

'  How  many  are  there  ?  ' 

'  By  the  time  we  ship  'em  all  over  they'll  be 
perhaps  a  hundred,  counting  children.  An  old 
world  in  miniature.     Can't  you  see  it  ?  ' 

*  M-yes  ;  but  I've  got  to  pay  for  it  if  it's  a 
blow-out,  dear  man.' 

'  They  can  sing  the  old  war  songs  in  the  streets. 
They  can  get  word-drunk,  and  make  crowds,  and 
invade  privacy  in  the  genuine  old-fashioned  way ; 
and  they'll  do  the  voting  trick  as  often  as  you  ask 
'em  a  question.' 

'  Too  good  ! '  said  Vincent. 

'  You  unbelieving  Jew  !  I've  got  a  dozen 
head  aboard  here.  I'll  put  you  through  direct. 
Sample  'em  yourself.' 

He  lifted  the  switch  and  we  listened.  Our 
passengers  on  the  lower  deck  at  once,  but  not 
less  than  five  at  a  time,  explained  themselves  to 
Vincent.  They  had  been  taken  from  the  bosom 
of  their  families,  stripped  of  their  possessions, 
given  food  without  finger-bowls,  and  cast  into 
captivity  in  a  noisome  dungeon. 

'  But  look  here,'  said  Arnott  aghast ;  '  they're 
saying  what  isn't  true.  My  lower  deck  isn't 
noisome,  and  I  saw  to  the  finger-bowls  myself.' 

'  My  people  talk  like  that  sometimes  in  Little 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  39 

Russia,'  said  Dragomiroff.  '  We  reason  with 
them.     We  never  kill.     No  ! ' 

'  But  it's  not  true,'  Arnott  insisted.  *  What 
can  you  do  with  people  who  don't  tell  facts  ? 
They're  mad  !  ' 

'  Hsh  ! '  said  Pirolo,  his  hand  to  his  ear.  '  It 
is  such  a  little  time  since  all  the  Planet  told  lies.' 

We  heard  Vincent  silkily  sympathetic.  Would 
they,  he  asked,  repeat  their  assertions  in  public — 
before  a  vast  public  ?  Only  let  Vincent  give  them 
a  chance,  and  the  Planet,  they  vowed,  should  ring 
with  their  wrongs.  Their  aim  in  life — two  women 
and  a  man  explained  it  together — was  to  reform 
the  world.  Oddly  enough,  this  also  had  been 
Vincent's  life-dream.  He  offered  them  an  arena 
in  which  to  explain,  and  by  their  living  example 
to  raise  the  Planet  to  loftier  levels.  He  was 
eloquent  on  the  moral  uplift  of  a  simple,  old- 
world  life  presented  in  its  entirety  to  a  deboshed 
civilisation. 

Could  they — would  they — for  three  months 
certain,  devote  themselves  under  his  auspices,  as 
missionaries,  to  the  elevation  of  mankind  at  a  place 
called  Earl's  Court,  which  he  said,  with  some 
truth,  was  one  of  the  intellectual  centres  of  the 
Planet  ?  They  thanked  him,  and  demanded  (we 
could  hear  his  chuckle  of  delight)  time  to  discuss 
and  to  vote  on  the  matter.  The  vote,  solemnly 
managed  by  counting  heads — one  head,  one  vote 
— was  favourable.  His  offer,  therefore,  was 
accepted,  and  they  moved  a  vote  of  thanks  to  him 
in  two  speeches — one  by  what  they  called  the 
'proposer'  and  the  other  by  the  'seconder.' 


4o       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Vincent  threw  over  to  us,  his  voice  shaking 
with  gratitude  : 

*  I've  got  'em  !  Did  you  hear  those  speeches  ? 
That's  Nature,  dear  men.  Art  can't  teach  that. 
And  they  voted  as  easily  as  lying.  I've  never 
had  a  troupe  of  natural  liars  before.  Bless  you, 
dear  men !  Remember,  you're  on  my  free  lists 
for  ever,  anywhere — all  of  you.  Oh,  Gerolstein 
will  be  sick — sick  ! ' 

*  Then  you  think  they'll  do  ? '  said  De 
Forest. 

1  Do  ?  The  Little  Village'll  go  crazy  !  I'll 
knock  up  a  series  of  old-world  plays  for  'em. 
Their  voices  will  make  you  laugh  and  cry.  My 
God,  dear  men,  where  do  you  suppose  they  picked 
up  all  their  misery  from,  on  this  sweet  earth  ?  I'll 
have  a  pageant  of  the  world's  beginnings,  and 
Mosenthal  shall  do  the  music.     I'll ' 

*  Go  and  knock  up  a  village  for  'em  by  to- 
night. We'll  meet  you  at  No.  15  West  Landing 
Tower,'  said  De  Forest.  '  Remember  the  rest 
will  be  coming  along  to-morrow.' 

*  Let  'em  all  come  ! '  said  Vincent.  '  You  don't 
know  how  hard  it  is  nowadays  even  for  me,  to 
find  something  that  really  gets  under  the  public's 
damned  iridium-plated  hide.  But  I've  got  it  at 
last.     Good-bye  ! ' 

'  Well,'  said  De  Forest  when  we  had  finished 
laughing,  *  if  any  one  understood  corruption  in 
London  I  might  have  played  off  Vincent  against 
Gerolstein,  and  sold  my  captives  at  enormous 
prices.  As  it  is,  I  shall  have  to  be  their  legal 
adviser  to-night  when   the   contracts   are   signed. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  41 

And  they  won't  exactly  press  any  commission  on 
me,  either.' 

*  Meantime,'  said  Takahira,  '  we  cannot,  of 
course,  confine  members  of  Leopold  Vincent's 
last  -  engaged  company.  Chairs  for  the  ladies, 
please,  Arnott.' 

'  Then  I  go  to  bed,'  said  De  Forest.  c  I  can't 
face  any  more  women ! '     And  he  vanished. 

When  our  passengers  were  released  and  given 
another  meal  (finger-bowls  came  first  this  time) 
they  told  us  what  they  thought  of  us  and  the 
Board  ;  and,  like  Vincent,  we  all  marvelled  how 
they  had  contrived  to  extract  and  secrete  so  much 
bitter  poison  and  unrest  out  of  the  good  life  God 
gives  us.  They  raged,  they  stormed,  they  palpitated, 
flushed  and  exhausted  their  poor,  torn  nerves, 
panted  themselves  into  silence,  and  renewed  the 
senseless,  shameless  attacks. 

'  But  can't  you  understand,'  said  Pirolo  patheti- 
cally to  a  shrieking  woman,  '  that  if  we'd  left  you 
in  Chicago  you'd  have  been  killed  ? ' 

'  No,  we  shouldn't.  You  were  bound  to  save 
us  from  being  murdered.' 

'  Then  we  should  have  had  to  kill  a  lot  of 
other  people.' 

'  That  doesn't  matter.  We  were  preaching 
the  Truth.  You  can't  stop  us.  We  shall  go  on 
preaching  in  London  ;  and  then  you'll  see  ! ' 

'  You  can  see  now,'  said  Pirolo,  and  opened  a 
lower  shutter. 

We  were  closing  on  the  Little  Village,  with 
her  three  million  people  spread  out  at  ease  inside 
her   ring   of  girdling    Main-Traffic   lights — those 


42       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

eight  fixed  beams  at  Chatham,  Tonbridge,  Redhill, 
Dorking,  Woking,  St.  Albans,  Chipping  Ongar, 
and  Southend. 

Leopold  Vincent's  new  company  looked,  with 
small  pale  faces,  at  the  silence,  the  size,  and  the 
separated  houses. 

Then  some  began  to  weep  aloud,  shamelessly — 
always  without  shame. 


MACDONOUGH'S   SONG 

Whether  the  State  can  loose  and  bind 

In  Heaven  as  well  as  on  Earth  : 
If  it  be  wiser  to  kill  mankind 

Before  or  after  the  birth — 
These  are  matters  of  high  concern 

Where  State-kept  schoolmen  are  ; 
But  Holy  State  (we  have  lived  to  learn) 

Endeth  in  Holy  War. 

Whether  The  People  be  led  by  the  Lord, 

Or  lured  by  the  loudest  throat  : 
If  it  be  quicker  to  die  by  the  sword 

Or  cheaper  to  die  by  vote — 
These  are  the  things  we  have  dealt  with  once, 

(And  they  will  not  rise  from  their  grave) 
For  Holy  People,  however  it  runs, 

Endeth  in  wholly  Slave. 

Whatsoever,  for  any  cause, 

Seeketh  to  take  or  give, 
Power  above  or  beyond  the  Laws, 

Suffer  it  not  to  live  ! 

43 


4.4      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Holy  State  or  Holy  King — 

Or  Holy  People's  Will- 
Have  no  truck  with  the  senseless  thing. 

Order  the  guns  and  kill ! 
Saying — after — me : — 

Once  there  was  The  People — Terror  gave  it  birth  ; 
Once  there  was  The  People  and  it  made  a  Hell  of 

Earth. 
Earth  arose  and  crushed  it.     Listen,  O  ye  slain  ! 
Once  there  was  The  People — it  shall  never  be  again  ! 


Friendly   Brook 

(March  19 14) 

The  valley  was  so  choked  with  fog  that  one  could 
scarcely  see  a  cow's  length  across  a  field.  Every 
blade,  twig,  bracken-frond,  and  hoof-print  carried 
water,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  noise  of 
rushing  ditches  and  field-drains,  all  delivering  to 
the  brook  below.  A  week's  November  rain  on 
water-logged  land  had  gorged  her  to  full  flood, 
and  she  proclaimed  it  aloud. 

Two  men  in  sackcloth  aprons  were  considering 
an  untrimmed  hedge  that  ran  down  the  hillside 
and  disappeared  into  mist  beside  those  roarings. 
They  stood  back  and  took  stock  of  the  neglected 
growth,  tapped  an  elbow  of  hedge-oak  here,  a 
mossed  beech -stub  there,  swayed  a  stooled  ash 
back  and  forth,  and  looked  at  each  other. 

1 1  reckon  she's  about  two  rod  thick,'  said 
Jabez  the  younger,  '  an'  she  hasn't  felt  iron  since — 
when  has  she,  Jesse  ? ' 

1  Call  it  twenty-five  year,  Jabez,  an'  you  won't 
be  far  out.' 

'  Umm  ! '  Jabez  rubbed  his  wet  handbill  on 
45 


46      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

his  wetter  coat-sleeve.     '  She  ain't  a  hedge.     She's 

all  manner  o'  trees.     We'll  just  about  have  to ' 

He  paused,  as  professional  etiquette  required, 

'  Just  about  have  to  side  her  up  an'  see  what 

she'll  bear.    But  hadn't  we  best ? '    Jesse  paused 

in  his  turn,  both  men  being  artists  and  equals. 

'  Get  some  kind  o'  line  to  go  by.'  Jabez 
ranged  up  and  down  till  he  found  a  thinner  place, 
and  with  clean  snicks  of  the  handbill  revealed  the 
original  face  of  the  fence.  Jesse  took  over  the 
dripping  stufr  as  it  fell  forward,  and,  with  a 
grasp  and  a  kick,  made  it  to  lie  orderly  on  the 
bank  till  it  should  be  faggoted. 

By  noon  a  length  of  unclean  jungle  had  turned 
itself  into  a  cattle-proof  barrier,  tufted  here  and 
there  with  little  plumes  of  the  sacred  holly  which 
no  woodman  touches  without  orders. 

1  Now  we've  a  witness-board  to  go  by  ! '  said 
Jesse  at  last. 

'  She  won't  be  as  easy  as  this  all  along,'  Jabez 
answered.  '  She'll  need  plenty  stakes  and  binders 
when  we  come  to  the  brook.' 

1  Well,  ain't  we  plenty  ?  '  Jesse  pointed  to  the 
ragged  perspective  ahead  of  them  that  plunged 
downhill  into  the  fog.  '  I  lay  there's  a  cord  an'  a 
half  o'  firewood,  let  alone  faggots,  'fore  we  get  any- 
wheres anigh  the  brook.' 

'  The  brook's  got  up  a  piece  since  morning,' 
said  Jabez.  '  Sounds  like's  if  she  was  over 
Wickenden's  door-stones.' 

Jesse  listened,  too.  There  was  a  growl  in  the 
brook's  roar  as  though  she  worried  something 
hard. 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  47 

*  Yes.  She's  over  Wickenden's  door-stones,' 
he  replied.  '  Now  she'll  flood  acrost  Alder  Bay 
an'  that'll  ease  her.' 

'  She  v/on't  ease  Jim  Wickenden's  hay  none  if 
she  do,'  Jabez  grunted.  '  I  told  Jim  he'd  set 
that  liddle  hay-stack  o'  his  too  low  down  in  the 
medder.  I  told  him  so  when  he  was  drawin'  the 
bottom  for  it.' 

'  I  told  him  so,  too,'  said  Jesse.  '  I  told  him 
'fore  ever  you  did.  I  told  him  when  the  County 
Council  tarred  the  roads  up  along.'  He  pointed 
up-hill,  where  unseen  automobiles  and  road- 
engines  droned  past  continually.  '  A  tarred  road, 
she  shoots  every  drop  o'  water  into  a  valley  same's 
a  slate  roof.  'Tisn't  as  'twas  in  the  old  days, 
when  the  waters  soaked  in  and  soaked  out  in  the 
way  o'  nature.  It  rooshes  off  they  tarred  roads 
all  of  a  lump,  and  naturally  every  drop  is  bound 
to  descend  into  the  valley.  And  there's  tar  roads 
both  two  sides  this  valley  for  ten  mile.  That's 
what  I  told  Jim  Wickenden  when  they  tarred  the 
roads  last  year.  But  he's  a  valley-man.  He 
don't  hardly  ever  journey  up-hill.' 

'  What  did  he  say  when  you  told  him  that  ? ' 
Jabez  demanded,  with  a  little  change  of  voice. 

'  Why  ?  What  did  he  say  to  you  when  you 
told  him  ? '  was  the  answer. 

'  What  he  said  to  you,  I  reckon,  Jesse.' 

'  Then,  you  don't  need  me  to  say  it  over  again, 
Jabez.' 

'  Well,  let  be  how  'twill,  what  was  he  gettin' 
after  when  he  said  what  he  said  to  me  ? '  Jabez 
insisted. 


48       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

4  /  dunno  ;  unless  you  tell  me  what  manner  o' 
words  he  said  to  you.' 

Jabez  drew  back  from  the  hedge — all  hedges 
are  nests  of  treachery  and  eavesdropping — and 
moved  to  an  open  cattle-lodge  in  the  centre  of 
the  field. 

'  No  need  to  go  ferretin'  around,'  said  Jesse. 
'  None  can't  see  us  here  'fore  we  see  them.' 

'  What  was  Jim  Wickenden  gettin'  at  when  I 
said  he'd  set  his  stack  too  near  anigh  the  brook  ? ' 
Jabez  dropped  his  voice.     '  He  was  in  his  mind.' 

*  He  ain't  never  been  out  of  it  yet  to  my 
knowledge,'  Jesse  drawled,  and  uncorked  his  tea- 
bottle. 

'  But  then  Jim  says :  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  shift 
my  stack  a  yard,"  he  says.  "  The  Brook's  been 
good  friends  to  me,  and  if  she  be  minded,"  he 
says,  "  to  take  a  snatch  at  my  hay,  /  ain't  settin' 
out  to  withstand  her."  That's  what  Jim 
Wickenden  says  to  me  last  —  last  June-end 
'twas,'  said  Jabez. 

'  Nor  he  hasn't  shifted  his  stack,  neither,'  Jesse 
replied.  '  An'  if  there's  more  rain,  the  brook 
she'll  shift  it  for  him.* 

'  No  need  tell  me  !  But  I  want  to  know  what 
Jim  was  gettin'  at  ?  ' 

Jabez  opened  his  clasp-knife  very  deliberately  ; 
Jesse  as  carefully  opened  his.  They  unfolded  the 
newspapers  that  wrapped  their  dinners,  coiled  away 
and  pocketed  the  string  that  bound  the  packages, 
and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  lodge  manger. 
The  rain  began  to  fall  again  through  the  fog,  and 
the  brook's  voice  rose. 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  49 

'But  I  always  allowed  Mary  was  his  lawful 
child,  like,'  said  Jabez,  after  Jesse  had  spoken  for  a 
while. 

'  'Tain't  so.  .  .  .  Jim  Wickenden's  woman 
she  never  made  nothing.  She  come  out  o'  Lewes 
with  her  stockin's  round  her  heels,  an'  she  never 
made  nor  mended  aught  till  she  died.  He  had 
to  light  fire  an'  get  breakfast  every  mornin'  except 
Sundays,  while  she  sowed  it  abed.  Then  she  took 
an'  died,  sixteen,  seventeen,  year  back  ;  but  she 
never  had  no  childern.' 

1  They  was  valley-folk,'  said  Jabez  apologeti- 
cally. 'I'd  no  call  to  go  in  among  'em,  but  I 
always  allowed  Mary ' 

'  No.  Marv  come  out  o'  one  o'  those  Lunnon 
Childern  Societies.  After  his  woman  died,  Jim 
got  his  mother  back  from  his  sister  over  to 
Peasmarsh,  which  she'd  gone  to  house  with  when 
Jim  married.  His  mother  kept  house  for  Jim 
after  his  woman  died.  They  do  say  'twas  his 
mother  led  him  on  toward  adoptin'  of  Mary — to 
furnish  out  the  house  with  a  child,  like,  and  to 
keep  him  off  of  gettin'  a  noo  woman.  He  mostly 
done  what  his  mother  contrived.  'Cardenly, 
twixt  'em,  they  asked  for  a  child  from  one  o' 
those  Lunnon  societies — same  as  it  might  ha' 
been  these  Barnardo  children — an'  Mary  was 
sent  down  to  'em,  in  a  candle-box,  I've  heard.' 

'  Then  Mary  is  chance-born.  I  never  knowed 
that,'  said  Jabez.  '  Yet  I  must  ha'  heard  it  some 
time  or  other  .  .  .' 

'  No.     She    ain't.     'Twould    ha'    been    better 


50      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

for  some  folk  if  she  had  been.  She  come  to  Jim 
in  a  candle-box  with  all  the  proper  papers — lawful 
child  o'  some  couple  in  Lunnon  somewheres — 
mother  dead,  father  drinkin'.  And  there  was 
that  Lunnon  society's  five  shillin's  a  week  for  her. 
Jim's  mother  she  wouldn't  despise  week-end 
money,  but  I  never  heard  Jim  was  much  of  a 
muck-grubber.  Let  be  how  'twill,  they  two 
mothered  up  Mary  no  bounds,  till  it  looked  at 
last  like  they'd  forgot  she  wasn't  their  own  flesh 
an'  blood.  Yes,  I  reckon  they  forgot  Mary  wasn't 
their'n  by  rights.' 

'  That's  no  new  thing,'  said  Jabez.  '  There's 
more'n  one  or  two  in  this  parish  wouldn't  surrender 
back  their  Bernarders.  You  ask  Mark  Copley 
an'  his  woman  an'  that  Bernarder  cripple-babe  o' 
theirs.' 

'  Maybe  they  need  the  five  shillin','  Jesse 
suggested. 

1  It's  handy,'  said  Jabez.  '  But  the  child's 
more.  "  Dada  "  he  says,  an'  "  Mumma  "  he  says, 
with  his  great  rollin'  head-piece  all  hurdled  up 
in  that  iron  collar.  He  won't  live  long — his 
backbone's  rotten,  like.  But  they  Copleys  do 
just  about  set  store  by  him — five  bob  or  no  five 
bob.' 

'  Same  way  with  Jim  an'  his  mother,'  Jesse 
went  on.  '  There  was  talk  betwixt  'em  after  a 
few  years  o'  not  takin'  any  more  week-end  money 
for  Mary  ;  but  let  alone  she  never  passed  a  farden 
in  the  mire  'thout  longin's,  Jim  didn't  care,  like, 
to  push  himself  forward  into  the  Society's  re- 
membrance.    So  naun  came  of  it.     The  week-end 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  51 

money  would  ha'  made  no  odds  to  Jim — not  after 
his  uncle  willed  him  they  four  cottages  at  East- 
bourne art  money  in  the  bank.' 

'  That  was  true,  too,  then  ?  I  heard  something 
in  a  scadderin'  word-o'-mouth  way,'  said  Jabez. 

*  I'll  answer  for  the  house  property,  because 
Jim  he  reequested  my  signed  name  at  the  foot  o' 
some  papers  concernin'  it.  Regardin'  the  money 
in  the  bank,  he  nature-ally  wouldn't  like  such 
things  talked  about  all  round  the  parish,  so  he 
took  strangers  for  witnesses.' 

*  Then  'twill  make  Mary  worth  seekin'  after  ? ' 
'  She'll  need  it.     Her  Maker  ain't  done  much 

for  her  outside  nor  yet  in.' 

*  That  ain't  no  odds.'  Jabez  shook  his  head 
till  the  water  showered  off  his  hat-brim.  '  If 
Mary  has  money,  she'll  be  wed  before  any 
likely  pore  maid.  She's  cause  to  be  grateful  to 
Jim.' 

*  She  hides  it  middlin'  close,  then,'  said  Jesse. 
*  It  don't  sometimes  look  to  me  as  if  Mary  has 
her  natural  rightful  feelin's.  She  don't  put  on 
an  apron  o'  Mondays  'thout  being  druv  to  it — 
in  the  kitchen  or  the  hen-house.  She's  studyin' 
to  be  a  school-teacher.  She'll  make  a  beauty  !  I 
never  knowed  her  show  any  sort  o'  kindness  to 
nobody — not  even  when  Jim's  mother  was  took 
dumb.  No  !  'Twadn't  no  stroke.  It  stifled 
the  old  lady  in  the  throat  here.  First  she  couldn't 
shape  her  words  no  shape  ;  then  she  clucked,  like, 
an'  lastly  she  couldn't  more  than  suck  down  spoon- 
meat  an'  hold  her  peace.  Jim  took  her  to  Doctor 
Harding,    an'    Harding    he    bundled    her    off"  to 


52      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Brighton  Hospital  on  a  ticket,  but  they  couldn't 
make  no  stay  to  her  afflictions  there ;  and  she  was 
bundled  off  to  Lunnon,  an'  they  lit  a  great  old 
lamp  inside  her,  and  Jim  told  me  they  couldn't 
make  out  nothing  in  no  sort  there  ;  and,  along 
o'  one  thing  an'  another,  an'  all  their  spyin's  and 
pryin's,  she  come  back  a  hem  sight  worse  than 
when  she  started.  Jim  said  he'd  have  no  more 
hospitalizin',  so  he  give  her  a  slate,  which  she  tied 
to  her  waist-string,  and  what  she  was  minded  to 
say  she  writ  on  it.' 

'  Now,  I  never  knowed  that !  But  they're 
valley-folk,'  Jabez  repeated. 

'  'Twadn't  particular  noticeable,  for  she  wasn't 
a  talkin'  woman  any  time  o'  her  days.  Mary 
had  all  three's  tongue.  .  .  .  Well,  then,  two  years 
this  summer,  come  what  I'm  tellin'  you.  Mary's 
Lunnon  father,  which  they'd  put  clean  out  o' 
their  minds,  arrived  down  from  Lunnon  with  the 
law  on  his  side,  sayin'  he'd  take  his  daughter 
back  to  Lunnon,  after  all.  I  was  working  for 
Mus'  Dockett  at  Pounds  Farm  that  summer,  but 
I  was  obligin'  Jim  that  evenin'  muckin'  out  his  pig- 
pen. I  seed  a  stranger  come  traipsin'  over  the 
bridge  agin'  Wickenden's  door-stones.  'Twadn't 
the  new  County  Council  bridge  with  the  handrail. 
They  hadn't  given  it  in  for  a  public  right  o'  way 
then.  'Twas  just  a  bit  o'  lathy  old  plank  which 
Jim  had  throwed  acrost  the  brook  for  his  own 
conveniences.  The  man  wasn't  drunk — only  a 
little  concerned  in  liquor,  like — an'  his  back  was 
a  mask  where  he'd  slipped  in  the  muck  comin' 
along.     He  went  up  the  bricks  past  Jim's  mother, 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  S3 

which  was  feedin'  the  ducks,  an'  set  himself  down 
at  the  table  inside — Jim  was  just  changin'  his 
socks — an'  the  man  let  Jim  know  all  his  rights 
and  aims  regardin'  Mary.  Then  there  just  about 
was  a  hurly-bulloo?  Jim's  fust  mind  was  to 
pitch  him  forth,  but  he'd  done  that  once  in  his 
young  days,  and  got  six  months  up  to  Lewes  jail 
along  o'  the  man  fallin'  on  his  head.  So  he 
swallowed  his  spittle  an'  let  him  talk.  The  law 
about  Mary  was  on  the  man's  side  from  fust  to 
last,  for  he  showed  us  all  the  papers.  Then  Mary 
come  downstairs  —  she'd  been  studyin'  for  an 
examination — an'  the  man  tells  her  who  he  was, 
an'  she  says  he  had  ought  to  have  took  proper 
care  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  while  he  had  it  by 
him,  an'  not  to  think  he  could  ree-claim  it  when  it 
suited.  He  says  somethin'  or  other,  but  she  looks 
him  up  an'  down,  front  an'  backwent,  an'  she  just 
tongues  him  scadderin'  out  o'  doors,  and  he  went 
away  stuffin'  all  the  papers  back  into  his  hat, 
talkin'  most  abusefully.  Then  she  come  back  an' 
freed  her  mind  against  Jim  an'  his  mother  for  not 
havin'  warned  her  of  her  upbringin's,  which  it 
come  out  she  hadn't  ever  been  told.  They  didn't 
say  naun  to  her.  They  never  did.  Td  ha' 
packed  her  off  with  any  man  that  would  ha'  took 
her — an'  God's  pity  on  him  ! ' 

'  Umm  !  '  said  Jabez,  and  sucked  his  pipe. 

1  So  then,  that  was  the  beginnin'.  The  man 
come  back  again  next  week  or  so,  an'  he  catched 
Jim  alone,  'thout  his  mother  this  time,  an'  he  fair 
beazled  him  with  his  papers  an'  his  talk — for  the 
law  was  on  his  side — till  Jim  went  down  into  his 


54      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

money-purse  an'  give  him  ten  shillings  hush-money 
— he  told  me — to  withdraw  away  for  a  bit  an' 
leave  Mary  with  'em.' 

'  But  that's  no  way  to  get  rid  o'  man  or 
woman,'  Jabez  said. 

1  No  more  'tis.  I  told  Jim  so.  "  What  can  I 
do?"  Jim  says.  "The  law's  with  the  man.  I 
walk  about  daytimes  thinkin'  o'  it  till  I  sweats  my 
underclothes  wringin',  an'  I  lie  abed  nights  thinkin' 
o'  it  till  I  sweats  my  sheets  all  of  a  sop.  'Tisn't 
as  if  I  was  a  young  man,"  he  says,  "  nor  yet  as  if 
I  was  a  pore  man.  Maybe  he'll  drink  hisself  to 
death."  I  e'en  a'most  told  him  outright  what 
foolishness  he  was  enterin'  into,  but  he  knowed  it 
— -he  knowed  it — because  he  said  next  time  the 
man  come  'twould  be  fifteen  shillin's.  An'  next 
time  'twas.     Just  fifteen  shillin's  ! ' 

1  An'  was  the  man  her  father  ? '  asked  Jabez. 

'  He  had  the  proofs  an'  the  papers.  Jim 
showed  me  what  that  Lunnon  Childern's  Society 
had  answered  when  Mary  writ  up  to  'em  an'  taxed 
'em  with  it.  I  lay  she  hadn't  been  proper  polite 
in  her  letters  to  'em,  for  they  answered  middlin' 
short.  They  said  the  matter  was  out  o'  their 
hands,  but — let's  see  if  I  remember — oh,  yes, — 
they  ree-gretted  there  had  been  an  oversight.  I 
reckon  they  had  sent  Mary  out  in  the  candle-box 
as  a  orphan  instead  o'  havin'  a  father.  Terrible 
awkward  !  Then,  when  he'd  drinked  up  the 
money,  the  man  come  again — in  his  usuals — an' 
he  kept  hammerin'  on  and  hammerin'  on  about  his 
duty  to  his  pore  dear  wife,  an'  what  he'd  do  for  his 
dear  daughter  in   Lunnon,  till   the   tears   runned 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  55 

down  his  two  dirty  cheeks  an'  he  come  away  with 
more  money.  Jim  used  to  slip  it  into  his  hand  be- 
hind the  door;  but  his  mother  she  heard  the  chink. 
She  didn't  hold  with  hush-money.  She'd  write  out 
all  her  feelin's  on  the  slate,  an'  Jim  'ud  be  settin' 
up  half  the  night  answerin'  back  an  showing  that 
the  man  had  the  law  with  him.' 

'  Hadn't  that  man  no  trade  nor  business, 
then  ? ' 

'  He  told  me  he  was  a  printer.  I  reckon, 
though,  he  lived  on  the  rates  like  the  rest  of  'em 
up  there  in  Lunnon.' 

*  An'  how  did  Mary  take  it  ? ' 

*  She  said  she'd  sooner  go  into  service  than  go 
with  the  man.  I  reckon  a  mistress  'ud  be  middlin' 
put  to  it  for  a  maid  'fore  she  put  Mary  into  cap 
an'  gown.  She  was  studyin'  to  be  a  schoo-ool- 
teacher.  A  beauty  she'll  make  !  .  .  .  Well,  that 
was  how  things  went  that  fall.  Mary's  Lunnon 
father  kep'  comin'  an'  comin'  'carden  as  he'd 
drinked  out  the  money  Jim  gave  him  ;  an'  each 
time  he'd  put  up  his  price  for  not  takin'  Mary 
away.  Jim's  mother,  she  didn't  like  partin'  with 
no  money,  an'  bein'  obliged  to  write  her  feelin's 
on  the  slate  instead  o'  givin'  'em  vent  by  mouth, 
she  was  just  about  mad.     Just  about  she  was  mad  ! 

*  Come  November,  I  lodged  with  Jim  in  the 
outside  room  over  'gainst  his  hen-house.  I  paid 
her  my  rent.  I  was  workin'  for  Dockett  at 
Pounds — gettin'  chestnut-bats  out  o'  Perry  Shaw. 
Just  such  weather  as  this  be — rain  atop  o'  rain 
after  a  wet  October.  (An'  I  remember  it  ended 
in  dry  frostes  right  away  up  to  Christmas.)  Dockett 


56      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

he'd  sent  up  to  Perry  Shaw  for  me — no,  he  comes 
puffin'  up  to  me  himself — because  a  big  corner- 
piece  o'  the  bank  had  slipped  into  the  brook,  where 
she  makes  that  elber  at  the  bottom  o'  the  Seventeen 
Acre,  an'  all  the  rubbishy  alders  an'  sallies  which 
he  ought  to  have  cut  out  when  he  took  the  farm, 
they'd  slipped  with  the  slip,  an'  the  brook  was 
comin'  rooshin'  down  atop  of  'em,  an'  they'd  just 
about  back  an'  spill  the  waters  over  his  winter 
wheat.  The  water  was  lyin'  in  the  flats  already. 
"  Gor  a-mighty,  Jesse  !  "  he  bellers  out  at  me,  "  get 
that  rubbish  away  all  manners  you  can.  Don't 
stop  for  no  fagottin',  but  give  the  brook  play  or 
my  wheat's  past  salvation.  I  can't  lend  you  no 
help,"  he  says,  "  but  work  an'  I'll  pay  ye." 

*  You  had  him  there,'  Jabez  chuckled. 

'  Yes.  I  reckon  I  had  ought  to  have  drove 
my  bargain,  but  the  brook  was  backin'  up  on  good 
bread-corn.  So  'cardenly,  I  laid  into  the  mess  of 
it,  workin'  off  the  bank  where  the  trees  was 
drownin'  themselves  head-down  in  the  roosh — 
just  such  weather  as  this — an'  the  brook  creepin' 
up  on  me  all  the  time.  'Long  toward  noon,  Jim 
comes  mowchin'  along  with  his  toppin'  axe  over 
his  shoulder. 

' "  Be  you  minded  for  an  extra  hand  at  your 
job  ?  "  he  says. 

*  "  Be  you  minded  to  turn  to  ?  "  I  ses,  an' — 
no  more  talk  to  it — Jim  laid  in  alongside  o'  me. 
He's  no  hunger  with  a  toppin'  axe.' 

1  Maybe,  but  I've  seed  him  at  a  job  o'  throwin* 
in  the  woods,  an'  he  didn't  seem  to  make  out  no 
shape,'  said  Jabez.     '  He  haven't  got  the  shoulders, 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  57 

nor  yet  the  judgment — my  opinion — when  he's 
dealin'  with  full-girt  timber.  He  don't  rightly 
make  up  his  mind  where  he's  goin'  to  throw  her.' 

'  We  wasn't  throwin'  nothin'.  We  was  cuttin' 
out  they  soft  alders,  an'  haulin'  'em  up  the  bank 
'fore  they  could  back  the  waters  on  the  wheat. 
Jim  didn't  say  much,  'less  it  was  that  he'd  had  a 
post-card  from  Mary's  Lunnon  father,  night  be- 
fore, sayin'  he  was  comin'  down  that  mornin'. 
Jim,  he'd  sweated  all  night,  an'  he  didn't  reckon 
hisself  equal  to  the  talkin'  an'  the  swearin'  an'  the 
cryin',  an'  his  mother  blamin'  him  afterwards  on 
the  slate.  "  It  spiled  my  day  to  think  of  it,"  he 
ses,  when  we  was  eatin'  our  pieces.  "  So  I've  fair 
cried  dunghill  an'  run.  Mother'll  have  to  tackle 
him  by  herself.  1  lay  she  won't  give  him  no  hush- 
money,"  he  ses.  "  1  lay  he'll  be  surprised  by  the 
time  he's  done  with  her"  he  ses.  An'  that  was 
e'en  a'most  all  the  talk  we  had  concernin'  it.  But 
he's  no  hunger  with  the  toppin'  axe. 

'  The  brook  she'd  crep'  up  an'  up  on  us,  an' 
she  kep'  creepin'  upon  us  till  we  was  workin' 
knee-deep  in  the  shallers,  cuttin'  an'  pookin'  an' 
pullin'  what  we  could  get  to  o'  the  rubbish.  There 
was  a  middlin'  lot  comin'  down-stream,  too — 
cattle-bars  an'  hop-poles  and  odds-ends  bats,  all 
poltin'  down  together  ;  but  they  rooshed  round 
the  elber  good  shape  by  the  time  we'd  backed 
out  they  drowned  trees.  Come  four  o'clock  we 
reckoned  we'd  done  a  proper  day's  work,  an'  she'd 
take  no  harm  if  we  left  her.  We  couldn't  puddle 
about  there  in  the  dark  an'  wet  to  no  more  ad- 
vantage.    Jim  he  was  pourin'  the  water  out  of  his 


5  8      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

boots — no,  I  was  doin'  that.  Jim  was  kneelin'  to 
unlace  his'n.  "  Damn  it  all,  Jesse,"  he  ses,  standin' 
up  ;  "  the  flood  must  be  over  my  doorsteps  at 
home,  for  here  comes  my  old  white-top  bee-skep  ! " 

'  Yes.  I  alius  heard  he  paints  his  bee-sleeps,' 
Jabez  put  in.  *  I  dunno  paint  don't  tarrify  bees 
more'n  it  keeps  'em  dry.' 

'  "  I'll  have  a  pook  at  it,"  he  ses,  an'  he  pooks 
at  it  as  it  comes  round  the  elber.  The  roosh 
nigh  jerked  the  pooker  out  of  his  hand-grips,  an' 
he  calls  to  me,  an'  I  come  runnin'  barefoot. 
Then  we  pulled  on  the  pooker,  an'  it  reared  up 
on  eend  in  the  roosh,  an'  we  guessed  what  'twas. 
'Cardenly  we  pulled  it  in  into  a  shaller,  an'  it 
rolled  a  piece,  an'  a  great  old  stiff  man's  arm 
nigh  hit  me  in  the  face.  Then  we  was  sure. 
"  'Tis  a  man,"  ses  Jim.  But  the  face  was  all  a 
mask.  "  I  reckon  it's  Mary's  Lunnon  father,"  he 
ses  presently.  "  Lend  me  a  match  and  I'll  make 
sure."  He  never  used  baccy.  We  lit  three 
matches  one  by  another,  well's  we  could  in  the 
rain,  an'  he  cleaned  off  some  o'  the  slob  with  a 
tussick  o'  grass.  "  Yes,"  he  ses.  "  It's  Mary's 
Lunnon  father.  He  won't  tarrify  us  no  more. 
D'you  want  him,  Jesse  ?  "  he  ses. 

'  "  No,"  I  ses.  "  If  this  was  Eastbourne  beach 
like,  he'd  be  half-a-crown  apiece  to  us  'fore  the 
coroner  ;  but  now  we'd  only  lose  a  day  havin'  to 
'tend  the  inquest.      I  lay  he  fell  into  the  brook." 

'  "  I  lay  he  did,"  ses  Jim.  "  I  wonder  if  he 
saw  mother."  He  turns  him  over,  an'  opens  his 
coat  and  puts  his  fingers  in  the  waistcoat  pocket 
an'  starts    laughin'.      "  He's    seen    mother,   right 


FRIENDLY  BROOK 


59 


enough,"  he  ses.  "  An'  he's  got  the  best  of  her, 
too.  She  won't  be  able  to  crow  no  more  over  me 
'bout  givin'  him  money.  /  never  give  him  more 
than  a  sovereign.  She's  give  him  two  !  "  an'  he 
trousers  'em,  laughin'  all  the  time.  "  An'  now 
we'll  pook  him  back  again,  for  I've  done  with 
him,"  he  ses. 

'  So  we  pooked  him  back  into  the  middle  of 
the  brook,  an'  we  saw  he  went  round  the  elber 
'thout  balkin',  an'  we  walked  quite  a  piece  beside 
of  him  to  set  him  on  his  ways.  When  we 
couldn't  see  no  more,  we  went  home  by  the  high 
road,  because  we  knowed  the  brook  'u'd  be  out 
acrost  the  medders,  an'  we  wasn't  goin'  to  hunt 
for  Jim's  little  rotten  old  bridge  in  that  dark — 
an'  rainin'  Heavens'  hard,  too.  I  was  middlin' 
pleased  to  see  light  an'  vittles  again  when  we  got 
home.  Jim  he  pressed  me  to  come  insides  for  a 
drink.  He  don't  drink  in  a  generality,  but  he 
was  rid  of  all  his  troubles  that  evenin',  d'ye  see  ? 
"  Mother,"  he  ses  so  soon  as  the  door  ope'd,  "  have 
you  seen  him  ? "  She  whips  out  her  slate  an' 
writes  down — "No."  "  Oh,  no,"  ses  Jim.  "You 
don't  get  out  of  it  that  way,  mother.  I  lay  you 
have  seen  him,  an'  I  lay  he's  bested  you  for  all 
your  talk,  same  as  he  bested  me.  Make  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  mother,"  he  ses.  "  He  got  round  you 
too."  She  was  goin'  for  the  slate  again,  but  he 
stops  her.  "  It's  all  right,  mother,"  he  ses.  "  I've 
seen  him  sense  you  have,  an'  he  won't  trouble  us 
no  more."  The  old  lady  looks  up  quick  as  a 
robin,  an'  she  writes,  "  Did  he  say  so  ?  "  "  No," 
ses  Jim,   laughin'.     "  He    didn't   say  so.     That's 


60      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

how  I  know.  But  he  bested  you,  mother.  You 
can't  have  it  in  at  me  for  bein'  soft-hearted. 
You're  twice  as  tender-hearted  as  what  I  be. 
Look ! "  he  ses,  an'  he  shows  her  the  two 
sovereigns.  "  Put  'em  away  where  they  belong," 
he  ses.  "  He  won't  never  come  for  no  more  ;  an' 
now  we'll  have  our  drink,"  he  ses,  "  for  we've 
earned  it." 

'  Nature-ally  they  weren't  goin'  to  let  me  see 
where  they  kep'  their  monies.  She  went  upstairs 
with  it — for  the  whisky.' 

'  I  never  knowed  Jim  was  a  drinkin'  man — in 
his  own  house,  like,'  said  Jabez. 

'  No  more  he  isn't ;  but  what  he  takes  he  likes 
good.  He  won't  tech  no  publican's  hogwash 
acrost  the  bar.  Four  shillin's  he  paid  for  that 
bottle  o'  whisky.  I  know,  because  when  the 
old  lady  brought  it  down  there  wasn't  more'n 
jest  a  liddle  few  dreenin's  an'  dregs  in  it.  Nothin' 
to  set  before  neighbours,  I  do  assure  you.' 

i  "  Why,  'twas  half  full  last  week,  mother,"  he 
ses.  "  You  don't  mean,"  he  ses,  "  you've  given 
him  all  that  as  well  ?  It's  two  shillin's  worth," 
he  ses.  (That's  how  1  knowed  he  paid  four.) 
"  Well,  well,  mother,  you  be  too  tender-'earted  to 
live.  But  I  don't  grudge  it  to  him,"  he  ses.  "  I 
don't  grudge  him  nothin'  he  can  keep."  So, 
'cardenly,  we  drinked  up  what  little  sup  was  left.' 

'  An'  what  come  to  Mary's  Lunnon  father  ?  ' 
said  Jabez,  after  a  full  minute's  silence. 

*  I  be  too  tired  to  go  readin'  papers  of  evenin's  ; 
but  Dockett  he  told  me,  that  very  week.  I  think, 
that  they'd  inquested  on  a  man  down  at  Roberts- 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  61 

bridge  which  had  polted  and  poked  up  agin'  so 
many  bridges  an'  banks,  like,  they  couldn't  make 
naun  out  of  him.' 

*  An'  what  did  Mary  say  to  all  these  doin's  ?  ' 

*  The  old  lady  bundled  her  off  to  the  village 
'fore  her  Lunnon  father  come,  to  buy  week-end 
stuff  (an'  she  forgot  the  half  o'  it).  When  we 
come  in  she  was  upstairs  studyin'  to  be  a  school- 
teacher. None  told  her  naun  about  it.  'Twadn't 
girls'  affairs.' 

'  'Reckon  she  knowed  ? '  Jabez  went  on. 

'  She  ?  She  must  have  guessed  it  middlin' 
close  when  she  saw  her  money  come  back.  But 
she  never  mentioned  it  in  writing  so  far's  I  know. 
She  were  more  worritted  that  night  on  account  of 
two-three  her  chickens  bein'  drowned,  for  the 
flood  had  skewed  their  old  hen-house  round  on 
her  postes.  I  cobbled  her  up  next  mornin'  when 
the  brook  shrinked.' 

'An'  where  did  you  find  the  bridge?  Some 
fur  down-stream,  didn't  ye  ? ' 

'  Just  where  she  alius  was.  She  hadn't  shifted 
but  very  little.  The  brook  had  gulled  out  the 
bank  a  piece  under  one  eend  o'  the  plank,  so's  she 
was  liable  to  tilt  ye  sideways  if  you  wasn't  careful. 
But  I  pooked  three-four  bricks  under  her,  an'  she 
was  all  plumb  again.' 

'Well,  I  dunno  how  it  looks  like,  but  let  be 
how  'twill,'  said  Jabez,  '  he  hadn't  no  business  to 
come  down  from  Lunnon  tarrifyin'  people,  an' 
threatenin'  to  take  away  children  which  they'd 
hobbed  up  for  their  lawful  own — even  if  'twas 
Mary  Wickenden.' 


62       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  He  had  the  business  right  enough,  an'  he  had 
the  law  with  him — no  gettin'  over  that,'  said  Jesse. 
'  But  he  had  the  drink  with  him,  too,  an'  that 
was  where  he  failed,  like.' 

'  Well,  well  !  Let  be  how  'twill,  the  brook  was 
a  good  friend  to  Jim.  I  see  it  now.  I  alius  dia 
wonder  what  he  was  gettin'  at  when  he  said  that, 
when  I  talked  to  him  about  shiftin'  the  stack. 
"  You  dunno  everythin',"  he  ses.  "  The  Brook's 
been  a  good  friend  to  me,"  he  ses,  "  an*  if  she's 
minded  to  have  a  snatch  at  my  hay,  /  ain't  settin' 
out  to  withstand  her."  ' 

1 1  reckon  she's  about  shifted  it,  too,  by  now,' 
Jesse  chuckled.  '  Hark  !  That  ain't  any  slip  off 
the  bank  which  she's  got  hold  of.' 

The  Brook  had  changed  her  note  again.  It 
sounded  as  though  she  were  mumbling  something 
soft. 


THE   LAND 

When  Julius  Fabricius,  Sub-Prefect  of  the  Weald, 

In  the  days  of  Diocletian  owned  our  Lower  River- 
field, 

He  called  to  him  Hobdenius — a  Briton  of  the 
m  Clay, 

Saying  :  '  What  about  that  River-piece  for  layin' 
in  to  hay  ? ' 


And   the  aged   Hobden  answered  :    '  I  remember 

as  a  lad 
My    father    told    your    father    that    she    wanted 

dreenin'  bad. 
An'  the  more  that  you  neeglect  her  the  less  you'll 

get  her  clean. 
Have  it  jest   as  you've  a  mind  to,  but,  if  I  was 

you,  I'd  dreen.' 


So  they  drained  it  long  and  crossways  in  the  lavish 

Roman  style. 
Still  we  find  among  the  river-drift  their  flakes  of 

ancient  tile, 

63 


64      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

And  in  drouthy  middle  August,  when  the  bones 

of  meadows  show, 
We    can    trace    the    lines    they    followed    sixteen 

hundred  years  ago. 


Then  Julius  Fabricius  died  as  even  Prefects  do, 
And  after  certain  centuries,   Imperial  Rome  died 

too. 
Then  did  robbers  enter   Britain  from  across  the 

Northern  main 
And  our  Lower  River-field  was  won  by  Ogier  the 

Dane. 


Well  could  Ogier  work  his  war-boat — well  could 

Ogier  wield  his  brand — 
Much  he  knew  of  foaming  waters — not  so  much 

of  farming  land. 
So  he  called  to  him  a  Hobden  of  the  old  unaltered 

blood, 
Saying  :   '  What  about  that  River-bit,  she  doesn't 

look  no  good  ? ' 


And  that  aged  Hobden  answered  :  '  'Tain't  for  me 

to  interfere, 
But  I've  known  that  bit  o'  meadow  now  for  five 

and  fifty  year. 
Have  it  jest  as  you've  a  mind  to,  but  I've  proved 

it  time  on  time, 
If  you  want  to  change  her  nature  you  have  got  to 

give  her  lime  ! ' 


THE  LAND  65 

Ogier    sent    his    wains    to   Lewes,   twenty   hours' 

solemn  walk, 
And  drew  back  great  abundance  of  the  cool,  grey, 

healing  chalk. 
And    old    Hobden    spread    it    broadcast,    never 

heeding  what  was  in't ; 
Which  is  why  in  cleaning  ditches,  now  and  then 

we  find  a  flint. 


Ogier  died.  His  sons  grew  English.  Anglo- 
Saxon  was  their  name, 

Till  out  of  blossomed  Normandy  another  pirate 
came  ; 

For  Duke  William  conquered  England  and 
divided  with  his  men, 

And  our  Lower  River-field  he  gave  to  William 
of  Warenne. 


But  the  Brook   (you  know  her  habit)  rose  one 

rainy  Autumn  night 
And   tore   down   sodden   flitches  of  the  bank  to 

left  and  right. 
So,  said  William  to  his  Bailiff  as  they  rode  their 

dripping  rounds  : 
*  Hob,  what   about  that  River- bit — the   Brook's 

got  up  no  bounds  ?  ' 

And  that  aged  Hobden  answered  :   *  'Tain't  my 

business  to  advise, 
But  ye  might   ha'   known   'twould  happen   from 

the  way  the  valley  lies. 

F 


66      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

When  ye  can't  hold  back  the  water  you  must  try 

and  save  the  sile. 
Hev  it  jest  as  you've  a  mind  to,  but,  if  I  was  you, 

I'd  spile ! ' 


They  spiled  along  the  water-course  with  trunks 
of  willow-trees 

And  planks  of  elms  behind  'em  and  immortal 
oaken  knees. 

And  when  the  spates  of  Autumn  whirl  the  gravel- 
beds  away 

You  can  see  their  faithful  fragments  iron-hard  in 
iron  clay. 

Georgii  Qjuinti  Anno  Sex to ,  I,  who  own  the  River- 
field, 

Am  fortified  with  title-deeds,  attested,  signed 
and  sealed, 

Guaranteeing  me,  my  assigns,  my  executors  and 
heirs 

All  sorts  of  powers  and  profits  which — are  neither 
mine  nor  theirs. 


I  have  rights  of  chase  and  warren,  as  my  dignity 

requires. 
I  can  fish — but  Hobden  tickles.     I  can  shoot — 

but  Hobden  wires. 
I  repair,  but  he  reopens,  certain  gaps  which,  men 

allege, 
Have  been  used  by  every  Hobden  since  a  Hobden 

swapped  a  hedge. 


THE  LAND  67 

Shall  I  dog  his  morning  progress  o'er  the  track- 
betraying  dew  ? 

Demand  his  dinner-basket  into  which  my  pheasant 
flew? 

Confiscate  his  evening  faggot  into  which  the 
conies  ran, 

And  summons  him  to  judgment  ?  I  would  sooner 
summons  Pan. 


His  dead  are  in  the  churchyard — thirty  genera- 
tions laid. 

Their  names  went,  down  in  Domesday  Book 
when  Domesday  Book  was  made. 

And  the  passion  and  the  piety  and  prowess  of  his 
line 

Have  seeded,  rooted,  fruited  in  some  land  the 
Law  calls  mine. 


Not  for  any  beast  that  burrows,  not  for  any  bird 
that  flies, 

Would  I  lose  his  large  sound  council,  miss  his 
keen  amending  eyes. 

He  is  bailiff,  woodman,  wheelwright,  field- 
surveyor,  engineer, 

And  if  flagrantly  a  poacher — 'tain't  for  me  to 
interfere. 


c  Hob,  what   about  that   River-bit  ? '     I   turn   to 

him  again 
With     Fabricius     and    Ogier     and    William     of 

Warenne. 


68       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Hev  it  jest  as  you've  a  mind  to,  but1 — and  so 

he  takes  command. 
For   whoever   pays  the   taxes  old   Mus'  Hobden 

owns  the  land. 


In  the  Same  Boat 

(1911) 

e  A  throbbing  vein,'  said  Dr.  Gilbert  soothingly, 
'  is  the  mother  of  delusion.* 

*  Then  how  do  you  account  for  my  knowing 
when  the  thing  is  due  ? '  Conroy's  voice  rose 
almost  to  a  break. 

1  Of  course,  but  you  should  have  consulted  a 
doctor  before  using — palliatives.' 

'  It  was  driving  me  mad.  And  now  I  can't 
give  them  up.' 

'  'Not  so  bad  as  that  !  One  doesn't  form  fatal 
habits  at  twenty-five.  Think  again.  Were  you 
ever  frightened  as  a  child  ?  ' 

'  I  don't  remember.  It  began  when  I  was 
a  boy.' 

1  With  or  without  the  spasm  ?  By  the  way, 
do  you  mind  describing  the  spasm  again  ?  ' 

'  Well,'  said  Conroy,  twisting  in  the  chair,  *  I'm 
no  musician,  but  suppose  you  were  a  violin-string 
— vibrating — and  some  one  put  his  finger  on 
you  ?  As  if  a  finger  were  put  on  the  naked  soul ! 
Awful  ! ' 

69 


70       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'So's  indigestion  —  so's  nightmare — while  it 
lasts.' 

'  But  the  horror  afterwards  knocks  me  out  for 
days.  And  the  waiting  for  it  .  .  .  and  then  this 
drug  habit !  It  can't  go  on  !  '  He  shook  as  he 
spoke,  and  the  chair  creaked. 

'  My  dear  fellow,'  said  the  doctor,  c  when 
you're  older  you'll  know  what  burdens  the  best 
of  us  carry.     A  fox  to  every  Spartan.' 

'  That  doesn't  help  me.  I  can't !  I  can't ! ' 
cried  Conroy,  and  burst  into  tears. 

*  Don't  apologise,'  said  Gilbert,  when  the 
paroxysm  ended.  '  I'm  used  to  people  coming  a 
little — unstuck  in  this  room.' 

'  It's  those  tabloids  ! '  Conroy  stamped  his  foot 
feebly  as  he  blew  his  nose.  '  They've  knocked 
me  out.  I  used  to  be  fit  once.  Oh,  I've  tried 
exercise  and  everything.  But — if  one  sits  down 
for  a  minute  when  it's  due — even  at  four  in  the 
morning — it  runs  up  behind  one.' 

'  Ye-es.  Many  things  come  in  the  quiet  of 
the  morning.  You  always  know  when  the  visita- 
tion is  due  ? ' 

'  What  would  I  give  not  to  be  sure !  '  he 
sobbed. 

'  We'll  put  that  aside  for  the  moment.  I'm 
thinking  of  a  case  where  what  we'll  call  anasmia  of 
the  brain  was  masked  (I  don't  say  cured)  by 
vibration.  He  couldn't  sleep,  or  thought  he 
couldn't,  but  a  steamer  voyage  and  the  thump 
of  the  screw ' 

'  A  steamer  ?  After  what  I've  told  you  !'  Con- 
roy almost  shrieked.     '  I'd  sooner  .   .  .   ' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  71 

'Of  course  not  a  steamer  in  your  case,  but  a 
long  railway  journey  the  next  time  you  think  it 
will  trouble  you.      It  sounds  absurd,  but ' 

1  I'd  try  anything.  I  nearly  have,'  Conroy 
sighed. 

1  Nonsense  !  I've  given  you  a  tonic  that  will 
clear  that  notion  from  your  head.  Give  the  train  a 
chance,  and  don't  begin  the  journey  by  bucking 
yourself  up  with  tabloids.  Take  them  along,  but 
hold  them  in  reserve — in  reserve.' 

'D'you  think  I've  self-control  enough,  after 
what  you've  heard  ? '  said  Conroy. 

Dr.  Gilbert  smiled.  'Yes.  After  what  I've 
seen,'  he  glanced  round  the  room,  '  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  saying  you  have  quite  as  much 
self-control  as  many  other  people.  I'll  write  you 
later  about  your  journey.  Meantime,  the  tonic,' 
and  he  gave  some  general  directions  before  Conroy 
left. 

An  hour  later  Dr.  Gilbert  hurried  to  the  links, 
where  the  others  of  his  regular  week-end  game 
awaited  him.  It  was  a  rigid  round,  played  as 
usual  at  the  trot,  for  the  tension  of  the  week  lay 
as  heavy  on  the  two  King's  Counsels  and  Sir  John 
Chartres  as  on  Gilbert.  The  lawyers  were  old 
enemies  of  the  Admiralty  Court,  and  Sir  John  of 
the  frosty  eyebrows  and  Abernethy  manner  was 
bracketed  with,  but  before,  Rutherford  Gilbert 
among  nerve-specialists. 

At  the  Club-house  afterwards  the  lawyers 
renewed  their  squabble  over  a  tangled  collision 
case,  and  the  doctors  as  naturally  compared  pro- 
fessional matters. 


72       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Lies — all  lies,'  said  Sir  John,  when  Gilbert 
had  told  him  Conroy's  trouble.  '  Post  hoc,  propter 
hoc.  The  man  or  woman  who  drugs  is  ipso  facto 
a  liar.     You've  no  imagination.' 

'  'Pity  you  haven't  a  little — occasionally.' 

*  I  have  believed  a  certain  type  of  patient  in 
my  time.  It's  always  the  same.  For  reasons  not 
given  in  the  consulting-room  they  take  to  the 
drug.  Certain  symptoms  follow.  They  will 
swear  to  you,  and  believe  it,  that  they  took  the 
drug  to  mask  the  symptoms.  What  does  your 
man  use?  Najdolene?  I  thought  so.  I  had 
practically  the  duplicate  of  your  case  last 
Thursday.     Same  old  Najdolene — same  old  lie.' 

'  Tell  me  the  symptoms,  and  I'll  draw  my  own 
inferences,  Johnnie.' 

'  Symptoms !  The  girl  was  rank  poisoned 
with  Najdolene.  Ramping,  stamping  possession. 
Gad,  I  thought  she'd  have  the  chandelier  down.' 

'  Mine  came  unstuck  too,  and  he  has  the 
physique  of  a  bull,'  said  Gilbert.  '  "What  delusions 
had  yours  ? ' 

'  Faces — faces  with  mildew  on  them.  In  any 
other  walk  of  life  we'd  call  it  the  Horrors.  She 
told  me,  of  course,  she  took  the  drugs  to  mask  the 
faces.     Post  hoc,  propter  hoc  again.     All  liars  ! ' 

'  What's  that  ?  '  said  the  senior  K.C.  quickly. 
*  'Sounds  professional.' 

'  Go  away  !  Not  for  you,  Sandy.'  Sir  John 
turned  a  shoulder  against  him  and  walked  with 
Gilbert  in  the  chill  evening. 

To  Conroy  in  his  chambers  came,  one  week 
later,  this  letter  : 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  73 

Dear  Mr.  Conroy — If  your  plan  of  a  night's  trip 
on  the  17th  still  holds  good,  and  you  have  no  particular 
destination  in  view,  you  could  do  me  a  kindness.  A  Miss 
Henschil,  in  whom  I  am  interested,  goes  down  to  the 
West  by  the  10.8  from  Waterloo  (Number  3  platform) 
on  that  night.  She  is  not  exactly  an  invalid,  but,  like 
so  many  of  us,  a  little  shaken  in  her  nerves.  Her  maid, 
of  course,  accompanies  her,  but  if  I  knew  you  were  in 
the  same  train  it  would  be  an  additional  source  of  strength. 
Will  you  please  write  and  let  me  know  whether  the 
10.8  from  Waterloo,  Number  3  platform,  on  the  17th, 
suits  you,  and  I  will  meet  you  there  ?  Don't  forget  my 
caution,  and  keep  up  the  tonic. — Yours  sincerely, 

L.  Rutherford  Gilbert. 

'  He  knows  I'm  scarcely  fit  to  look  after  my- 
self,' was  Conroy's  thought.  *  And  he  wants  me 
to  look  after  a  woman  ! ' 

Yet,  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour's  irresolution, 
he  accepted. 

Now  Conroy's  trouble,  which  had  lasted  for 
years,  was  this  : 

On  a  certain  night,  while  he  lay  between  sleep 
and  wake,  he  would  be  overtaken  by  a  long 
shuddering  sigh,  which  he  learned  to  know  was 
the  sign  that  his  brain  had  once  more  conceived 
its  horror,  and  in  time — in  due  time — would  bring 
it  forth. 

Drugs  could  so  well  veii  that  horror  that  it 
shuffled  along  no  worse  than  as  a  freezing  dream 
in  a  procession  of  disorderly  dreams  ;  but  over  the 
return  of  the  event  drugs  had  no  control.  Once 
that  sigh  had  passed  his  lips  the  thing  was  inevitable, 
and  through  the  days  granted  before  its  rebirth  he 
walked  in  torment.     For  the  first  two  years  he 


74      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

had  striven  to  fend  it  off  by  distractions,  but 
neither  exercise  nor  drink  availed.  Then  he  had 
come  to  the  tabloids  of  the  excellent  M.  Najdol. 
These  guarantee,  on  the  label,  '  Refreshing  and 
absolutely  natural  sleep  to  the  soul-weary.'  They 
are  carried  in  a  case  with  a  spring  which  presses 
one  scented  tabloid  to  the  end  of  the  tube,  whence 
it  can  be  lipped  off  in  stroking  the  moustache  or 
adjusting  the  veil. 

Three  years  of  M.  Najdol's  preparations  do 
not  fit  a  man  for  many  careers.  His  friends,  who 
knew  he  did  not  drink,  assumed  that  Conroy  had 
strained  his  heart  through  valiant  outdoor  exercises, 
and  Conroy  had  with  some  care  invented  an 
imaginary  doctor,  symptoms,  and  regimen,  which 
he  discussed  with  them  and  with  his  mother  in 
Hereford.  She  maintained  that  he  would  grow 
out  of  it,  and  recommended  nux  vomica. 

When  at  last  Conroy  faced  a  real  doctor,  it 
was,  he  hoped,  to  be  saved  from  suicide  by  a 
strait-waistcoat.  Yet  Dr.  Gilbert  had  but  given 
him  more  drugs — a  tonic,  for  instance,  that  would 
couple  railway  carriages — and  had  advised  a  night 
in  the  train.  Not  alone  the  horrors  of  a  railway 
journey  (for  which  a  man  who  dare  keep  no 
servant  must  e'en  pack,  label,  and  address  his  own 
bag),  but  the  necessity  for  holding  himself  in  hand 
before  a  stranger  '  a  little  shaken  in  her  nerves.' 

He  spent  a  long  forenoon  packing,  because 
when  he  assembled  and  counted  things  his  mind 
slid  off  to  the  hours  that  remained  of  the  day 
before  his  night,  and  he  found  himself  counting 
minutes  aloud.     At  such  times  the  injustice  of  his 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT 


75 


fate  would  drive  him  to  revolts  which  no  servant 
should  witness,  but  on  this  evening  Dr.  Gilbert's 
tonic  held  him  fairly  calm  while  he  put  up  his 
patent  razors. 

Waterloo  Station  shook  him  into  real  life. 
The  change  tor  his  ticket  needed  concentration,  if 
only  to  prevent  shillings  and  pence  turning  into 
minutes  at  the  booking-office  ;  and  he  spoke  quickly 
to  a  porter  about  the  disposition  of  his  bag.  The 
old  10.8  from  Waterloo  to  the  West  was  an  all- 
night  caravan  that  halted,  in  the  interests  of  the 
milk  traffic,  at  almost  every  station. 

Dr.  Gilbert  stood  by  the  door  of  the  one  com- 
posite corridor- coach ;  an  older  and  stouter  man 
behind  hirm  '  So  glad  you're  here  ! '  he  cried. 
'  Let  me  get  your  ticket.' 

'  Certainly  not,'  Conroy  answered.  '  I  got  it 
myself — long  ago.  My  bag's  in  too,'  he  added 
proudly. 

1 1  beg  your  pardon.  Miss  Henschil's  here. 
I'll  introduce  you.' 

1  But — but,'  he  stammered — '  think  of  the  state 
I'm  in.      If  anything  happens  I  shall  collapse.' 

'  Not  you.  You'd  rise  to  the  occasion  like  a 
bird.  And  as  for  the  self-control  you  were  talk- 
ing of  the  other  day ' — Gilbert  swung  him  round 
—'look!' 

A  young  man  in  an  ulster  over  a  silk-faced 
frock-coat  stood  by  the  carriage  window,  weeping 
shamelessly. 

'  Oh,  but  that's  only  drink,'  Conroy  said.  '  I 
haven't  had  one  of  my — my  things  since  lunch.' 

1  Excellent ! '  said   Gilbert.     '  I  knew  I   could 


76       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

depend  on  you.  Come  along.  Wait  for  a 
minute,  Chartres.' 

A  tall  woman,  veiled,  sat  by  the  far  window. 
She  bowed  her  head  as  the  doctor  murmured 
Conroy  knew  not  what.  Then  he  disappeared  and 
the  inspector  came  for  tickets. 

'  My  maid — next  compartment,'  she  said 
slowly. 

Conroy  showed  his  ticket,  but  in  returning  it  to 
the  sleeve -pocket  of  his  ulster  the  little  silver 
Najdolene  case  slipped  from  his  glove  and  fell  to 
the  floor.  He  snatched  it  up  as  the  moving  train 
flung  him  into  his  seat. 

'  How  nice  ! '  said  the  woman.  She  leisurely 
lifted  her  veil,  unbuttoned  the  first  button  of  her  left 
glove,  and  pressed  out  from  its  palm  a  Najdolene- 
case. 

'  Don't  !  '  said  Conroy,  not  realising  he  had 
spoken. 

'  I  beg  your  pardon.'  The  deep  voice  was 
measured,  even,  and  low.  Conroy  knew  what 
made  it  so. 

T  said  "don't"  !   He  wouldn't  like  you  to  do  it!' 

'  No,  he  would  not.'  She  held  the  tube  with 
its  ever  -  presented  tabloid  between  finger  and 
thumb.  '  But  aren't  you  one  of  the — ah — "  soul- 
weary  "  too  ?  ' 

'  That's  why.  Oh,  please  don't !  Not  at  first. 
I — I  haven't  had  one  since  morning.  You — 
you'll  set  me  off ! ' 

1  You  ?     Are  you  so  far  gone  as  that  ? ' 

He  nodded,  pressing  his  palms  together.  The 
train  jolted    through    Vauxhall    points,    and    was 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  77 

welcomed  with  the  clang  of  empty  milk-cans  for 
the  West. 

After  long  silence  she  lifted  her  great  eyes,  and, 
with  an  innocence  that  would  have  deceived  any 
sound  man,  asked  Conroy  to  call  her  maid  to  bring 
her  a  forgotten  book. 

Conroy  shook  his  head.  '  No.  Our  sort  can't 
read.     Don't ! ' 

*  Were  you  sent  to  watch  me  ? '  The  voice 
never  changed. 

'  Me  ?  I  need  a  keeper  myself  much  more — 
this  night  of  all ! 

'This  night  ?  Have  you  a  night,  then  ?  They 
disbelieved  me  when  I  told  them  of  mine.'  She 
leaned  back  and  laughed,  always  slowly.  '  Aren't 
doctors  stu-upid  ?     They  don't  know.' 

She  leaned,  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  lifted  her 
veil  that  had  fallen,  and,  chin  in  hand,  stared  at 
him.  He  looked  at  her — till  his  eyes  were  blurred 
with  tears. 

1  Have  /  been  there,  think  you  ? '  she  said. 

'  Surely — surely,'  Conroy  answered,  for  he  had 
well  seen  the  fear  and  the  horror  that  lived  behind 
the  heavy-lidded  eyes,  the  fine  tracing  on  the 
broad  forehead,  and  the  guard  set  about  the 
desirable  mouth. 

*  Then — suppose  we  have  one — just  one  apiece  ? 
I've  gone  without  since  this  afternoon.' 

He  put  up  his  hand,  and  would  have  shouted, 
but  his  voice  broke. 

1  Don't !  Can't  you  see  that  it  helps  me  to  help 
you  to  keep  it  off?  Don't  let's  both  go  down 
together.' 


78       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  But  I  want  one.  It's  a  poor  heart  that  never 
rejoices.     Just  one.     It's  my  night.' 

'  It's  mine — too.  My  sixty-fourth,  fifth,  sixth, 
seventh.'  He  shut  his  lips  firmly  against  the  tide 
of  visualised  numbers  that  threatened  to  carry  him 
along. 

'  Ah,  it's  only  my  thirty-ninth.'  She  paused  as 
he  had  done.  '  I  wonder  if  I  shall  last  into  the 
sixties.  .  .  .  Talk  to  me  or  I  shall  go  crazy. 
You're  a  man.  You're  the  stronger  vessel.  Tell 
me  when  you  went  to  pieces.' 

'  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven — eight — 
I  beg  your  pardon.' 

'  Not  in  the  least.  I  always  pretend  I've  dropped 
a  stitch  of  my  knitting.  I  count  the  days  till  the 
last  day,  then  the  hours,  then  the  minutes.  Do 
you  ? ' 

' 1  don't  think  I've  done  very  much  else  for  the 

last '  said  Conroy,  shivering,  for  the  night  was 

cold,  with  a  chill  he  recognised. 

'  Oh,  how  comforting  to  find  some  one  who  can 
talk  sense  !     It's  not  always  the  same  date,  is  it  ? ' 

'  What  difference  would  that  make  ? '  He  un- 
buttoned his  ulster  with  a  jerk.  '  You're  a  sane 
woman.  Can't  you  see  the  wicked — wicked — 
wicked '  (dust  flew  from  the  padded  arm-rest  as 
he  struck  it)  '  unfairness  of  it  ?  What  have  / 
done  ? ' 

She  laid  her  large  hand  on  his  shoulder  very 
firmly. 

'  If  you  begin  to  think  over  that,'  she  said, 
*  you'll  go  to  pieces  and  be  ashamed.  Tell  me  yours, 
and  I'll  tell  you  mine.     Only  be  quiet — be  quiet, 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  79 

lad,  or   you'll  set   me   off ! '     She   made  shift  to 
soothe  him,  though  her  chin  trembled. 

*  Well,'  said  he  at  last,  picking  at  the  arm-rest 
between  them,  '  mine's  nothing  much,  of  course.' 

I  Don't  be  a  fool  !  That's  for  doctors — and 
mothers.' 

'  It's  Hell,'  Conroy  muttered.  '  It  begins  on  a 
steamer — on  a  stifling  hot  night.  I  come  out  of 
my  cabin.  I  pass  through  the  saloon  where  the 
stewards  have  rolled  up  the  carpets,  and  the  boards 
are  bare  and  hot  and  soapy.' 

'  I've  travelled  too,'  she  said. 

'  Ah  !  I  come  on  deck.  I  walk  down  a  covered 
alleyway.  Butcher's  meat,  bananas,  oil,  that  sort 
of  smell.' 

Again  she  nodded. 

'  It's  a  lead-coloured  steamer,  and  the  sea's  lead- 
coloured.  Perfectly  smooth  sea — perfectly  still 
ship,  except  for  the  engines  running,  and  her  waves 
going  off  in  lines  and  lines  and  lines — dull  grey. 
All  this  time  I  know  something's  going  to  happen.' 

*  I  know.  Something  going  to  happen,'  she 
whispered. 

'  Then  I  hear  a  thud  in  the  engine-room.  Then 
the  noise  of  machinery  falling  down — like  fire-irons 
— and  then  two  most  awful  yells.  They're  more 
like  hoots,  and  I  know — I  know  while  I  listen — 
that  it  means  that  two  men  have  died  as  they 
hooted.  It  was  their  last  breath  hooting  out  of 
them — in  most  awful  pain.     Do  you  understand  ? ' 

I I  ought  to.     Go  on.' 

1  That's  the  first  part.  Then  I  hear  bare  feet 
running  along  the  alleyway.     One  of  the  scalded 


80      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

men  comes  up  behind  me  and  says  quite  distinctly, 
"  My  friend  !  All  is  lost !  "  Then  he  taps  me  on 
the  shoulder  and  I  hear  him  drop  down  dead.' 
He  panted  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

*  So  that  is  your  night  ?  '  she  said. 

'  That  is  my  night.  It  comes  every  few  weeks 
— so  many  days  after  I  get  what  I  call  sentence. 
Then  I  begin  to  count.' 

'  Get  sentence  ?  D'ycu  mean  this  ?  '  She  half 
closed  her  eyes,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  shuddered. 

' "  Notice  "  I  call  it.     Sir  John  thought  it  was  all 

If 
les. 

She  had  unpinned  her  hat  and  thrown  it  on  the 

seat  opposite,  showing  the  immense  mass  of  her 

black  hair,  rolled  low  in  the  nape  of  the  columnar 

neck  and  looped  over  the  left  ear.     But  Conroy 

had  no  eyes  except  for  her  grave  eyes. 

*  Listen  now  ! '  said  she.  '  I  walk  down  a  road,  a 
white  sandy  road  near  the  sea.  There  are  broken 
fences  on  either  side,  and  Men  come  and  look  at  me 
over  them.' 

'  Just  men  ?     Do  they  speak  ?  ' 

*  They  try  to.  Their  faces  are  all  mildewy — 
eaten  away,'  and  she  hid  her  face  for  an  instant 
with  her  left  hand.     *  It's  the  Faces — the  Faces  ! ' 

'  Yes.     Like  my  two  hoots.     /  know.' 

1  Ah  !     But  the  place  itself — the  bareness — and 

the  glitter  and  the  salt  smells,  and  the  wind  blowing 

the  sand  !     The  Men  run  after  me  and  I  run.  .  .  . 

I  know  what's  coming  too.     One  of  them  touches 

me.' 

*  Yes  !  What  comes  then  ?  We've  both  shirked 
that.' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  81 

'  One  awful  shock — not  palpitation,  but  shock, 
shock,  shock  !  ' 

*  As  though  your  soul  were  being  stopped — as 
you'd  stop  a  finger-bowl  humming  ? '  he  said. 

'  Just  that,"  she  answered.  '  One's  very  soul — 
the  soul  that  one  lives  by — stopped.     So  ! ' 

She  drove  her  thumb  deep  into  the  arm-rest. 
1  And  now,'  she  whined  to  him,  '  now  that  we've 
stirred  each  other  up  this  way,  mightn't  we  have 
just  one  ? ' 

1  No,'  said  Conroy,  shaking.  '  Let's  hold  on. 
We're  past ' — he  peered  out  of  the  black  windows 
— '  Woking.  There's  the  Necropolis.  How  long 
till  dawn  ? ' 

*  Oh,  cruel  long  yet.  If  one  dozes  for  a  minute, 
it  catches  one.' 

'  And  how  d'you  find  that  this  ' — he  tapped  the 
palm  of  his  glove — ■'  helps  you  ? ' 

*  It  covers  up  the  thing  from  being  too  real — 
if  one  takes  enough — you  know.  Only — only — 
one  loses  everything  else.  I've  been  no  more  than 
a  bogie-girl  for  two  years.  What  would  you  give 
to  be  real  again  ?     This  lying's  such  a  nuisance.' 

'  One  must  protect  oneself — and  there's  one's 
mother  to  think  of,'  he  answered. 

*  True.  I  hope  allowances  are  made  for  us 
somewhere.  Our  burden — can  you  hear  ? — our 
burden  is  heavy  enough.' 

She  rose,  towering  into  the  roof  of  the  carriage. 
Conroy's  ungentle  grip  pulled  her  back. 

'Now you  are  foolish.     Sit  down,'  said  he. 

*  But  the  cruelty  of  it !  Can't  you  see  it  ?  Don't 
you  feel  it?     Let's  take  one  now — before  I ' 


82      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Sit  down  !  '  cried  Conroy,  and  the  sweat  stood 
again  on  his  forehead.  He  had  fought  through 
a  few  nights,  and  had  been  defeated  on  more,  and 
he  knew  the  rebellion  that  flares  beyond  control 
to  exhaustion. 

She  smoothed  her  hair  and  dropped  back,  but 
for  a  while  her  head  and  throat  moved  with  the 
sickening  motion  of  a  captured  wry-neck. 

'  Once,'  she  said,  spreading  out  her  hands,  '  I 
ripped  my  counterpane  from  end  to  end.  That 
takes  strength.  I  had  it  then.  I've  little  now. 
"  All  dorn,"  as  my  little  niece  says.  And  you, 
lad  ? ' 

'  "  All  dorn "  !  Let  me  keep  your  case  for 
you  till  the  morning.' 

'  But  the  cold  feeling  is  beginning.' 

1  Lend  it  me,  then.' 

*  And  the  drag  down  my  right  side.  I  shan't 
be  able  to  move  in  a  minute.' 

'  I  can  scarcely  lift  my  arm  myself,'  said 
Conroy.     '  We're  in  for  it.' 

*  Then  why  are  you  so  foolish  ?  You  know  it'll 
be  easier  if  we  have  only  one — only  one  apiece.' 

She  was  lifting  the  case  to  her  mouth,  With 
tremendous  effort  Conroy  caught  it.  The  two 
moved  like  jointed  dolls,  and  when  their  hands 
met  it  was  as  wood  on  wood. 

*  You  must — not ! '  said  Conroy.  His  jaws 
stiffened,  and  the  cold  climbed  from  his  feet  up. 

'Why — must — I — not?'  She  repeated  the 
words  idiotically. 

Conroy  could  only  shake  his  head,  while  he 
bore  down  on  the  hand  and  the  case  in  it. 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  83 

Her  speech  went  from  her  altogether.  The 
wonderful  lips  rested  half  over  the  even  teeth, 
the  breath  was  in  the  nostrils  only,  the  eyes  dulled, 
the  face  set  grey,  and  through  the  glove  the  hand 
struck  like  ice. 

Presently  her  soul  came  back  and  stood  behind 
her  eyes — only  thing  that  had  life  in  all  that  place 
— stood  and  looked  for  Conroy's  soul.  He  too 
was  fettered  in  every  limb,  but  somewhere  at  an 
immense  distance  he  heard  his  heart  going  about 
its  work  as  the  engine-room  carries  on  through 
and  beneath  the  all  but  overwhelming  wave.  His 
one  hope,  he  knew,  was  not  to  lose  the  eyes  that 
clung  to  his,  because  there  was  an  Evil  abroad 
which  would  possess  him  if  he  looked  aside  by  a 
hairbreadth. 

The  rest  was  darkness  through  which  some 
distant  planet  spun  while  cymbals  clashed.  (Beyond 
Farnborough  the  10.8  rolls  out  many  empty  milk- 
cans  at  every  halt.)  Then  a  body  came  to  life 
with  intolerable  pricklings.  Limb  by  limb,  after 
agonies  of  terror,  that  body  returned  to  him, 
steeped  in  most  perfect  physical  weariness  such  as 
follows  a  long  day's  rowing.  He  saw  the  heavy 
lids  droop  over  her  eyes — the  watcher  behind 
them  departed — and,  his  soul  sinking  into  assured 
peace,  Conroy  slept. 

Light  on  his  eyes  and  a  salt  breath  roused  him 
without  shock.  Her  hand  still  held  his.  She 
slept,  forehead  down  upon  it,  but  the  movement 
of  his  waking  waked  her  too,  and  she  sneezed  like 
a  child. 

'  I — I  think  it's  morning,'  said  Conroy. 


84       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

c  And  nothing  has  happened  !  Did  you  see 
your  Men  ?  I  didn't  see  my  Faces.  Does  it 
mean  we've  escaped  ?  Did — did  you  take  any 
after  1  went  to  sleep?  I'll  swear  /  didn't,'  she 
stammered. 

'No,  there  wasn't  any  need.  We've  slept 
through  it/ 

1  No  need  !  Thank  God  !  There  was  no 
need  !     Oh,  look  ! ' 

The  train  was  running  under  red  cliffs  along  a 
sea-wall  washed  by  waves  that  were  colourless  in 
the  early  light.  Southward  the  sun  rose  mistily 
upon  the  Channel. 

She  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  breathed 
to  the  bottom  of  her  lungs,  while  the  wind  wrenched 
down  her  dishevelled  hair  and  blew  it  below  her 
waist. 

1  Well ! '  she  said  with  splendid  eyes.  '  Aren't 
you  still  waiting  for  something  to  happen  ? ' 

*  No.  Not  till  next  time.  We've  been  let  off,' 
Conroy  answered,  breathing  as  deeply  as  she. 

'  Then  we  ought  to  say  our  prayers.' 

s  What  nonsense  !     Some  one  will  see  us. ' 

c  We  needn't  kneel.  Stand  up  and  say  "  Our 
Father."     We  musi ! ' 

It  was  the  first  time  since  childhood  that 
Conroy  had  prayed.  They  laughed  hysterically 
when  a  curve  threw  them  against  an  arm-rest. 

'  Now  for  breakfast ! '  she  cried.  *  My  maid — 
Nurse  Blaber — has  the  basket  and  things.  It'll 
be  ready  in  twenty  minutes.  Oh  !  Look  at  my 
hair  !  '  and  she  went  out  laughing. 

Conroy 's  first  discovery,  made  without  fumbling 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  85 

or  counting  letters  on  taps,  was  that  the  London 
and  South  Western's  allowance  of  washing-water  is 
inadequate.  He  used  every  drop,  rioting  in  the 
cold  tingle  on  neck  and  arms.  To  shave  in  a 
moving  train  balked  him,  but  the  next  halt  gave 
him  a  chance,  which,  to  his  own  surprise,  he  took. 
As  he  stared  at  himself  in  the  mirror  he  smiled  and 
nodded.  There  were  points  about  this  person  with 
the  clear,  if  sunken,  eye  and  the  almost  uncom- 
pressed mouth.  But  when  he  bore  his  bag  back 
to  his  compartment,  the  weight  of  it  on  a  limp 
arm  humbled  that  new  pride. 

I  My  friend,'  he  said,  half  aloud,  '  you  go  into 
training.     You're  putty.' 

She  met  him  in  the  spare  compartment,  where 
her  maid  had  laid  breakfast. 

'  By  Jove  ! '  he  said,  halting  at  the  doorway,  '  I 
hadn't  realised  how  beautiful  you  were  !  ' 

*  The  same  to  you,  lad.  Sit  down.  I  could  eat 
a  horse.' 

I I  shouldn't,'  said  the  maid  quietly.  '  The  less 
you  eat  the  better.'  She  was  a  small,  freckled 
woman,  with  light  fluffy  hair  and  pale-blue  eyes 
that  looked  through  all  veils. 

'  This  is  Miss  Blaber,'  said  Miss  Henschil.  '  He's 
one  of  the  soul-weary  too,  Nursey.' 

'  I  know  it.  But  when  one  has  just  given  it  up 
a  full  meal  doesn't  agree.  That's  v/hy  I've  only 
brought  you  bread  and  butter.' 

She  went  out  quietly,  and  Conroy  reddened. 

'  We're  still  children,  you  see,'  said  Miss 
Henschil.  '  But  I'm  well  enough  to  feel  some 
shame  of  it.     D'you  take  sugar  ?  ' 


86       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

They  starved  together  heroically,  and  Nurse 
Blaber  was  good  enough  to  signify  approval  when 
she  came  to  clear  away. 

'  Nursey  ?  '  Miss  Henschil  insinuated,  and 
flushed. 

'  Do  you  smoke  ? '  said  the  nurse  coolly  to 
Conroy. 

1 1  haven't  in  years.  Now  you  mention  it,  I 
think  I'd  like  a  cigarette — or  something.' 

'  I  used  to.  D'you  think  it  would  keep  me 
quiet  ?  '  Miss  Henschil  said. 

'  Perhaps.  Try  these.'  The  nurse  handed  them 
her  cigarette-case. 

1  Don't  take  anything  else,'  she  commanded, 
and  went  away  with  the  tea-basket. 

*  Good  ! '  grunted  Conroy,  between  mouthfuls  of 
tobacco. 

■  'Better  than  nothing,'  said  Miss  Henschil ;  but 
for  a  while  they  felt  ashamed,  yet  with  the  comfort 
of  children  punished  together. 

'Now,'  she  whispered,  '  who  were  you  when  you 
were  a  man  ?  ' 

Conroy  told  her,  and  in  return  she  gave  him  her 
history.  It  delighted  them  both  to  deal  once 
more  in  worldly  concerns — families,  names,  places, 
and  dates — with  a  person  of  understanding. 

She  came,  she  said,  of  Lancashire  folk — wealthy 
cotton-spinners,  who  still  kept  the  broadened  a 
and  slurred  aspirate  of  the  old  stock.  She  lived 
with  an  old  masterful  mother  in  an  opulent  world 
north  of  Lancaster  Gate,  where  people  in  Society 
gave  parties  at  a  Mecca  called  the  Langham  Hotel. 

She  herself  had  been  launched  into  Society  there, 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  87 

and  the  flowers  at  the  ball  had  cost  eighty-seven 
pounds  ;  but,  being  reckoned  peculiar,  she  had  made 
few  friends  among  her  own  sex.  She  had  attracted 
many  men,  for  she  was  a  beauty — the  beauty,  in 
fact,  of  Society,  she  said. 

She  spoke  utterly  without  shame  or  reticence,  as 
a  life-prisoner  tells  his  past  to  a  fellow-prisoner  ; 
and  Conroy  nodded  across  the  smoke-rings. 

'  Do  you  remember  when  you  got  into  the 
carriage  ? '  she  asked.  '  (Oh,  I  wish  I  had  some 
knitting  !  )     Did  you  notice  aught,  lad  ? ' 

Conroy  thought  back.  It  was  ages  since. 
'  Wasn't  there  some  one  outside  the  door — 
crying  ? '  he  asked. 

'  He's — he's  the  little  man  I  was  engaged  to,' 
she  said.  *  But  I  made  him  break  it  off.  I  told 
him  'twas  no  good.     But  he  won't,  yo'  see.' 

'  That  fellow  ?  Why,  he  doesn't  come  up  to 
your  shoulder.' 

'  That's  naught  to  do  with  it.  I  think  all  the 
world  of  him.  I'm  a  foolish  wench  ' — her  speech 
wandered  as  she  settled  herself  cosily,  one  elbow  on 
the  arm-rest.  '  We'd  been  engaged — I  couldn't 
help  that — and  he  worships  the  ground  I  tread  on. 
But  it's  no  use.  I'm  not  responsible,  you  see.  His 
two  sisters  are  against  it,  though  I've  the  money. 
They're  right,  but  they  think  it's  the  dri-ink,'  she 
drawled.  '  They're  Methody — the  Skinners.  You 
see,  their  grandfather  that  started  the  Patton  Mills, 
he  died  o'  the  dri-ink.' 

'  I  see,'  said  Conroy.  The  grave  face  before  him 
under  the  lifted  veil  was  troubled. 

'  George    Skinner.'       She    breathed    it    softly. 


88       A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

1  I'd  make  him  a  good  wife,  by  God's  gra-ace— - 
if  I  could.  But  it's  no  use.  I'm  not  responsible. 
But  he'll  not  take  "  No  "  for  an  answer.  I  used  to 
call  him  "  Toots."    He's  of  no  consequence,  yo'  see.' 

*  That's  in  Dickens,'  said  Conroy,  quite  quickly. 
'  I  haven't  thought  of  Toots  for  years.  He  was 
at  Doctor  Blimber's.' 

'  And  so — that's  my  trouble,'  she  concluded, 
ever  so  slightly  wringing  her  hands.  '  But  I — 
don't  you  think — there's  hope  now  ? ' 

*  Eh  ? '  said  Conroy.  '  Oh  yes  !  This  is  the 
first  time  I've  turned  my  corner  without  help. 
With  your  help,  I  should  say.' 

'  It'll  come  back,  though.' 

*  Then  shall  we  meet  it  in  the  same  way  ? 
Here's  my  card.  Write  me  your  train,  and  we'll 
go  together.' 

'  Yes.     We  must  do  that.     But  between  times 

— when  we  want '     She  looked  at  her  palm, 

the  four  fingers  working  on  it.  '  It's  hard  to 
give  'em  up.' 

*  But  think  what  we  have  gained  already,  and 
let  me  have  the  case  to  keep.' 

She  shook  her  head,  and  threw  her  cigarette 
out  of  the  window.     'Not  yet.' 

'  Then  let's  lend  our  cases  to  Nurse,  and  we'll 
get  through  to-day  on  cigarettes.  I'll  call  her 
while  we  feel  strong.' 

She  hesitated,  but  yielded  at  last,  and  Nurse 
accepted  the  offerings  with  a  smile. 

'  You  11  be  all  right,'  she  said  to  Miss  Henschil. 
1  But  if  I  were  you  ' — to  Conroy — '  I'd  take  strong 
exercise.' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  89 

When  they  reached  their  destination  Conroy 
set  himself  to  obey  Nurse  Blaber.  He  had  no 
remembrance  of  that  day,  except  one  streak  of 
blue  sea  to  his  left,  gorse-bushes  to  his  right,  and, 
before  him,  a  coast-guard's  track  marked  with 
white-washed  stones  that  he  counted  up  to  the  far 
thousands.  As  he  returned  to  the  little  town  he 
saw  Miss  Henschil  on  the  beach  below  the  cliffs. 
She  kneeled  at  Nurse  Blaber's  feet,  weeping  and 
pleading. 

Twenty-five  days  later  a  telegram  came  to 
Conroy's  rooms  :  '  Notice  given.  Waterloo  again. 
Twenty -fourth?  That  same  evening  he  was 
wakened  by  the  shudder  and  the  sigh  that  told 
him  his  sentence  had  gone  forth.  Yet  he  reflected 
on  his  pillow  that  he  had,  in  spite  of  lapses, 
snatched  something  like  three  weeks  of  life,  which 
included  several  rides  on  a  horse  before  breakfast 
— the  hour  one  most  craves  Najdolene  ;  five 
consecutive  evenings  on  the  river  at  Hammersmith 
in  a  tub  where  he  had  well  stretched  the  white 
arms  that  passing  crews  mocked  at ;  a  game  of 
rackets  at  his  club ;  three  dinners,  one  small 
dance,  and  one  human  flirtation  with  a  human 
woman.  More  notable  still,  he  had  settled  his 
month's  accounts,  only  once  confusing  petty  cash 
with  the  days  of  grace  allowed  him.  Next 
morning  he  rode  his  hired  beast  in  the  park 
victoriously.  He  saw  Miss  Henschil  on  horse- 
back near  Lancaster  Gate,  talking  to  a  young  man 
at  the  railings. 

She  wheeled  and  cantered  toward  him. 


90      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

I  By  Jove  !  How  well  you  look  ! '  he  cried, 
without  salutation.      *  I  didn't  know  you  rode.' 

I I  used  to  once,'  she  replied.     'I'm  all  soft  now.' 
They  swept  off  together  down  the  ride. 

'  Your  beast  pulls,'  he  said. 

*  Wa-ant  him  to.  Gi-gives  me  something  to 
think  of.  How've  you  been  ? '  she  panted.  '  I 
wish  chemists'  shops  hadn't  red  lights.' 

*  Have  you  slipped  out  and  bought  some, 
then?' 

*  You  don't  know  Nursey.  Eh,  but  it's  good 
to  be  on  a  horse  again  !  This  chap  cost  me  two 
hundred.' 

1  Then  you've  been  swindled,'  said  Conroy. 

*  I  know  it,  but  it's  no  odds.  I  must  go  back 
to  Toots  and  send  him  away.  He's  neglecting 
his  work  for  me.' 

She  swung  her  heavy-topped  animal  on  his 
none  too  sound  hocks.     ' 'Sentence  come,  lad  ? ' 

'  Yes.  But  I'm  not  minding  it  so  much  this 
time.' 

'Waterloo,  then — and  God  help  us!'  She 
thundered  back  to  the  little  frock-coated  figure 
that  waited  faithfully  near  the  gate. 

Conroy  felt  the  spring  sun  on  his  shoulders 
and  trotted  home.  That  evening  he  went  out 
with  a  man  in  a  pair  oar,  and  was  rowed  to  a 
standstill.  But  the  other  man  owned  he  could 
not  have  kept  the  pace  five  minutes  longer. 

He  carried  his  bag  all  down  Number  3 
platform  at  Waterloo,  and  hove  it  with  one  hand 
into  the  rack. 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  91 

'  Well  done ! '  said  Nurse  Blaber,  in  the 
corridor.      '  We've  improved  too.' 

Dr.  Gilbert  and  an  older  man  came  out  of  the 
next  compartment. 

'  Hallo  ! '  said  Gilbert.  '  Why  haven't  you  been 
to  see  me,  Mr.  Conroy  ?  Come  under  the  lamp. 
Take  offyour  hat.  No — no.  Sit,  you  young  giant. 
Ve-ry  good.     Look  here  a  minute,  Johnnie.' 

A  little,  round-bellied,  hawk-faced  person  glared 
at  him. 

*  Gilbert  was  right  about  the  beauty  of  the  beast,' 
he  muttered.  'D'you  keep  it  in  your  glove  now?' 
he  went  on,  and  punched  Conroy  in  the  short  ribs. 

*  No,'  said  Conroy  meekly,  but  without  cough- 
ing. '  Nowhere — on  my  honour  !  I've  chucked 
it  for  good.' 

'  Wait  till  you  are  a  sound  man  before  you  say 
that,  Mr.  Conroy.'  Sir  John  Chartres  stumped  out, 
saying  to  Gilbert  in  the  corridor,  *  It's  all  very  fine, 
but  the  question  is  shall  I  or  we  "  Sir  Pandarus  of 
Troy  become,"  eh  ?  We're  bound  to  think  of  the 
children.' 

1  Have  you  been  vetted  ? '  said  Miss  Henschil, 
a  few  minutes  after  the  train  started.  '  May  I  sit 
with  you?  I — I  don't  trust  myself  yet.  I  can't 
give  up  as  easily  as  you  can,  seemingly.' 

'  Can't  you  ?  I  never  saw  any  one  so  improved 
in  a  month.' 

'  Look  here  ! '  She  reached  across  to  the  rack, 
single-handed  lifted  Conroy's  bag,  and  held  it  at 
arm's  length.  'I  counted  ten  slowly.  And  I  didn't 
think  of  hours  or  minutes,'  she  boasted. 

*  Don't  remind  me,'  he  cried. 


92      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

1  Ah  !  Now  I've  reminded  myself.  I  wish  I 
hadn't.  Do  you  think  it'll  be  easier  for  us 
to-night  ? ' 

'  Oh,  don't.'  The  smell  of  the  carriage  had 
brought  back  all  his  last  trip  to  him,  and  Conroy 
moved  uneasily. 

*  I'm  sorry.  I've  brought  some  games,'  she 
went  on.  *  Draughts  and  cards — but  they  all 
mean  counting.  I  wish  I'd  brought  chess,  but 
I  can't  play  chess.  What  can  we  do  ?  Talk  about 
something.' 

'  Well,  how's  Toots,  to  begin  with  ? '  said 
Conroy. 

*  Why  ?     Did  you  see  him  on  the  platform  ? ' 
'  No.     Was  he  there  ?     I  didn't  notice.' 

'  Oh  yes.  He  doesn't  understand.  He's  des- 
perately jealous.  I  told  him  it  doesn't  matter. 
Will  you  please  let  me  hold  your  hand  ?  I  believe 
I'm  beginning  to  get  the  chill.' 

'  Toots  ought  to  envy  me,'  said  Conroy. 

'  He  does.  He  paid  you  a  high  compliment 
the  other  night.  He's  taken  to  calling  again — in 
spite  of  all  they  say.' 

Conroy  inclined  his  head.  He  felt  cold,  and 
knew  surely  he  would  be  colder. 

*  He  said,'  she  yawned.  '  (Beg  your  pardon.) 
He  said  he  couldn't  see  how  I  could  help  falling 
in  love  with  a  man  like  you;  and  he  called  himself 
a  damned  little  rat,  and  he  beat  his  head  on  the 
piano  last  night.' 

*  The  piano  ?     You  play,  then  ? ' 

'  Only  to  him.  He  thinks  the  world  of  my 
accomplishments.    Then  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  have 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  93 

you  if  you  were  the  last  man  on  earth  instead  of 
only  the  best-looking — not  with  a  million  in  each 
stocking.' 

'  No,  not  with  a  million  in  each  stocking,'  said 
Conroy  vehemently.     *  Isn't  that  odd  ?  ' 

'  I  suppose  so — to  any  one  who  doesn't  know. 
Well,  where  was  I  ?  Oh,  George  as  good  as  told 
me  I  was  deceiving  him,  and  he  wanted  to  go 
away  without  saying  good-night.  He  hates  stand- 
ing a-tiptoe,  but  he  must  if  1  won't  sit  down.' 

Conroy  would  have  smiled,  but  the  chill  that 
foreran  the  coming  of  the  Lier-in-Wait  was  upon 
him,  and  his  hand  closed  warningly  on  hers. 

*  And — and  so —  '  she  was  trying  to  say,  when 
her  hour  also  overtook  her,  leaving  alive  only  the 
fear-dilated  eyes  that  turned  to  Conroy.  Hand 
froze  on  hand  and  the  body  with  it  as  they  waited 
for  the  horror  in  the  blackness  that  heralded  it. 
Yet  through  the  worst  Conroy  saw,  at  an  uncount- 
able distance,  one  minute  glint  of  light  in  his 
night.  Thither  would  he  go  and  escape  his  fear  ; 
and  behold,  that  light  was  the  light  in  the  watch- 
tower  of  her  eyes,  where  her  locked  soul  signalled 
to  his  soul  :  '  Look  at  me  ! ' 

In  time,  from  him  and  from  her,  the  Thing 
sheered  aside,  that  each  soul  might  step  down  and 
resume  its  own  concerns.  He  thought  confusedly 
of  people  on  the  skirts  of  a  thunderstorm,  with- 
drawing from  windows  where  the  torn  night  is, 
to  their  known  and  furnished  beds.  Then  he 
dozed,  till  in  some  drowsy  turn  his  hand  fell  from 
her  warmed  hand. 

1  That's    all.      The    Faces    haven't    come,'    he 


94      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

heard  her  say.  '  All — thank  God  !  I  don't  feel 
even  I  need  what  Nursey  promised  me.  Do 
you  ?  ' 

1  No.'  He  rubbed  his  eyes.  '  But  don't  make 
too  sure.' 

'  Certainly  not.  We  shall  have  to  try  again 
next  month.  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  an  awful 
nuisance  for  you.' 

*  Not  to  me,  I  assure  you,'  said  Conroy,  and 
they  leaned  back  and  laughed  at  the  flatness  of 
the  words,  after  the  hells  through  which  they  had 
just  risen. 

'  And  now,'  she  said,  strict  eyes  on  Conroy, 
'  why  wouldn't  you  take  me — not  with  a  million 
in  each  stocking  ? ' 

*  I  don't  know.  That's  what  I've  been  puzzling 
over.' 

1  So  have  I.  We're  as  handsome  a  couple  as 
I've  ever  seen.     Are  you  well  off,  lad  ? ' 

'  They  call  me  so,'  said  Conroy,  smiling. 

'  That's  North  country.'  She  laughed  again. 
'  Setting  aside  my  good  looks  and  yours,  I've  four 
thousand  a  year  of  my  own,  and  the  rents  should 
make  it  six.  That's  a  match  some  old  cats  would 
lap  tea  all  night  to  fettle  up.' 

'  It  is.     Lucky  Toots ! '  said  Conroy. 

'  Ay,'  she  answered,  '  he'll  be  the  luckiest  lad 
in  London  if  I  win  through.     Who's  yours  ? ' 

'  No — no  one,  dear.  I've  been  in  Hell  for  years. 
I  only  want  to  get  out  and  be  alive  and — so  on. 
Isn't  that  reason  enough  ?  ' 

'  Maybe,  for  a  man.  But  I  never  minded  things 
much  till  George  came.     I  was  all  stu-upid  like.' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  95 

'  So  was  I,  but  now  I  think  I  can  live.  It 
ought  to  be  less  next  month,  oughtn't  it  ? '  he  said. 

'  I  hope  so.  Ye-es.  There's  nothing  much 
for  a  maid  except  to  be  married,  and  /  ask  no 
more.  Whoever  yours  is,  when  you've  found  her, 
she  shall  have  a  wedding  present  from  Mrs.  George 
Skinner  that ' 

'  But  she  wouldn't  understand  it  any  more  than 
Toots.' 

*  He  doesn't  matter — except  to  me.  I  can't 
keep  my  eyes  open,  thank  God  !    Good-night,  lad.' 

Conroy  followed  her  with  his  eyes.  Beauty 
there  was,  grace  there  was,  strength,  and  enough 
of  the  rest  to  drive  better  men  than  George 
Skinner  to  beat  their  heads  on  piano-tops — but 
for  the  new-found  life  of  him  Conroy  could  not 
feel  one  flutter  of  instinct  or  emotion  that  turned 
to  herward.  He  put  up  his  feet  and  fell  asleep, 
dreaming  of  a  joyous,  normal  world  recovered — 
with  interest  on  arrears.  There  were  many  things 
in  it,  but  no  one  face  of  any  one  woman. 

Thrice  afterward  they  took  the  same  train,  and 
each  time  their  trouble  shrank  and  weakened. 
Miss  Henschil  talked  of  Toots,  his  multiplied 
calls,  the  things  he  had  said  to  his  sisters,  the 
much  worse  things  his  sisters  had  replied  ;  of  the 
late  (he  seemed  very  dead  to  them)  M.  Najdol's 
gifts  for  the  soul-weary  ;  of  shopping,  of  house 
rents,  and  the  cost  of  really  artistic  furniture  and 
linen. 

Conroy  explained  the  exercises  in  which  he 
delighted — mighty    labours    of   play    undertaken 


96      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

against  other  mighty  men,  till  he  sweated  and, 
having  bathed,  slept.  He  had  visited  his  mother, 
too,  in  Hereford,  and  he  talked  something  of  her 
and  of  the  home-life,  which  his  body,  cut  out  of 
all  clean  life  for  five  years,  innocently  and  deeply 
enjoyed.  Nurse  Blaber  was  a  little  interested  in 
Conroy's  mother,  but,  as  a  rule,  she  smoked  her 
cigarette  and  read  her  paper-backed  novels  in  her 
own  compartment. 

On  their  last  trip  she  volunteered  to  sit  with 
them,  and  buried  herself  in  The  Cloister  and  the 
Hearth  while  they  whispered  together.  On  that 
occasion  (it  was  near  Salisbury)  at  two  in  the 
morning,  when  the  Lier-in-Wait  brushed  them 
with  his  wing,  it  meant  no  more  than  that  they 
should  cease  talk  for  the  instant,  and  for  the 
instant  hold  hands,  as  even  utter  strangers  on  the 
deep  may  do  when  their  ship  rolls  underfoot. 

'  But  still,'  said  Nurse  Blaber,  not  looking  up, 
'  I  think  your  Mr.  Skinner  might  feel  jealous  of 
all  this.' 

1  It  would  be  difficult  to  explain,'  said  Conroy. 

'  Then  you'd  better  not  be  at  my  wedding,' 
Miss  Henschil  laughed. 

*  After  all  we've  gone  through,  too.  But  I 
suppose  you  ought  to  leave  me  out.  Is  the  day 
fixed  ? '  he  cried. 

'  Twenty-second  of  September — in  spite  of  both 
his  sisters.  I  can  risk  it  now.'  Her  face  was 
glorious  as  she  flushed. 

*  My  dear  chap  ! '  He  shook  hands  unre- 
servedly, and  she  gave  back  his  grip  without 
flinching.     '  I  can't  tell  you  how  pleased  I  am  ! ' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  97 

'  Gracious  Heavens  ! '  said  Nurse  Blaber,  in  a 
new  voice.  '  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  forgot 
I  wasn't  paid  to  be  surprised.' 

c  What  at  ?  Oh,  I  see  !  '  Miss  Henschil  ex- 
plained to  Conroy.  'She  expected  you  were  going 
to  kiss  me,  or  I  was  going  to  kiss  you,  or 
something.' 

'  After  all  you've  gone  through,  as  Mr.  Conroy 
said.' 

1  But  I  couldn't,  could  you  ? '  said  Miss  Henschil, 
with  a  disgust  as  frank  as  that  on  Conroy's  face. 
'  It  would  be  horrible — horrible.  And  yet,  of 
course,  you're  wonderfully  handsome.  How  d'you 
account  for  it,  Nursey  ?  ' 

Nurse  Blaber  shook  her  head.  *  I  was  hired  to 
cure  you  of  a  habit,  dear.  When  you're  cured  I 
shall  go  on  to  the  next  case — that  senile-decay  one 
at  Bournemouth  I  told  you  about.' 

'  And  I  shall  be  left  alone  with  George  !  But 
suppose  it  isn't  cured,'  said  Miss  Henschil  of  a 
sudden.  '  Suppose  it  comes  back  again.  What 
can  I  do  ?  I  can't  send  for  him  in  this  way  when 
I'm  a  married  woman  !  '  She  pointed  like  an 
infant. 

'  I'd  come,  of  course,'  Conroy  answered.  '  But, 
seriously,  that  is  a  consideration.' 

They  looked  at  each  other,  alarmed  and  anxious, 
and  then  toward  Nurse  Blaber,  who  closed  her 
book,  marked  the  place,  and  turned  to  face  them. 

'  Have  you  ever  talked  to  your  mother  as  you 
have  to  me  ? '  she  said. 

'No.  I  might  have  spoken  to  dad  —  but 
mother's  different.     What  d'you  mean  ? ' 

H 


98      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'And  you've  never  talked  to  your  mother 
either,  Mr.  Conroy  ? ' 

'  Not  till  I  took  Najdolene.  Then  I  told  her  it 
was  my  heart.  There's  no  need  to  say  anything, 
now  that  I'm  practically  over  it,  is  there?  ' 

'Not  if  it  doesn't  come  back,  but '     She 

beckoned  with  a  stumpy,  triumphant  finger  that 
drew  their  heads  close  together.  '  You  know  I 
always  go  in  and  read  a  chapter  to  mother  at  tea, 
child.' 

'  I  know  you  do.  You're  an  angel.'  Miss 
Henschil  patted  the  blue  shoulder  next  her. 
*  Mother's  Church  of  England  now,'  she  explained. 
'  But  she'll  have  her  Bible  with  her  pikelets  at  tea 
every  night  like  the  Skinners.' 

'  It  was  Naaman  and  Gehazi  last  Tuesday  that 
gave  me  a  clue.  I  said  I'd  never  seen  a  case  of 
leprosy,  and  your  mother  said  she'd  seen  too  many.' 

'  Where  ?  She  never  told  me,'  Miss  Henschil 
began. 

'  A  few  months  before  you  were  born — on  her 
trip  to  Australia — at  Mola  or  Molo  something  or 
other.  It  took  me  three  evenings  to  get  it  all 
out.' 

'  Ay — mother's  suspicious  of  questions,'  said 
Miss  Henschil  to  Conroy.  '  She'll  lock  the  door 
of  every  room  she's  in,  if  it's  but  for  five  minutes. 
She  was  a  Tackberry  from  Jarrow  way,  yo'  see.' 

'  She  described  your  men  to  the  life — men  with 
faces  all  eaten  away,  staring  at  her  over  the  fence 
of  a  lepers'  hospital  in  this  Molo  Island.  They 
begged  from  her,  and  she  ran,  she  told  me,  all 
down  the  street,  back  to  the  pier.     One  touched 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  99 

her  and  she  nearly  fainted.  She's  ashamed  of  that 
still.' 

'  My  men  ?  The  sand  and  the  fences  ?  '  Miss 
Henschil  muttered. 

'  Yes.  You  know  how  tidy  she  is  and  how  she 
hates  wind.  She  remembered  that  the  fences  were 
broken — she  remembered  the  wind  blowing.  Sand 
— sun — salt  wind — fences — faces — I  got  it  all  out 
of  her,  bit  by  bit.  You  don't  know  what  I  know  ! 
And  it  all  happened  three  or  four  months  before 
you  were  born.  There  !  '  Nurse  Blaber  slapped 
her  knee  with  her  little  hand  triumphantly. 

1  Would  that  account  for  it?  '  Miss  Henschil 
shook  from  head  to  foot. 

'  Absolutely.  I  don't  care  who  you  ask  !  You 
never  imagined  the  thing.  It  was  laid  on  you.  It 
happened  on  earth  to  you  !  Quick,  Mr.  Conroy, 
she's  too  heavy  for  me  !      I'll  get  the  flask.' 

Miss  Henschil  leaned  forward  and  collapsed,  as 
Conroy  told  her  afterwards,  like  a  factory  chimney. 
She  came  out  of  her  swoon  with  teeth  that  chattered 
on  the  cup. 

'No — no,'  she  said,  gulping.  'It's  not  hysterics. 
Yo'  see  I've  no  call  to  hev  'em  any  more.  No 
call  —  no  reason  whatever.  God  be  praised ! 
Can't  yo'  feel  I'm  a  right  woman  now  ?  ' 

'  Stop  hugging  me  !  '  said  Nurse  Blaber.  'You 
don't  know  your  strength.  Finish  the  brandy  and 
water.  It's  perfectly  reasonable,  and  I'll  Ir.y  long 
odds  Mr.  Conroy's  case  is  something  of  the  same. 
I've  been  thinking ' 

'  I  wonder '   said  Conroy,  and  pushed  the 

girl  back  as  she  swayed  again. 


ioo     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Nurse  Blaber  smoothed  her  pale  hair.  c  Yes. 
Your  trouble,  or  something  like  it,  happened  some- 
where on  earth  or  sea  to  the  mother  who  bore  you. 
Ask  her,  child.  Ask  her  and  be  done  with  it  once 
for  all.' 

'  I  will,'  said  Conroy.  .  .  .  '  There  ought  to 
be '  He  opened  his  bag  and  hunted  breath- 
lessly. 

'  Bless  you  !  Oh,  God  bless  you,  Nursey  ! ' 
Miss  Henschil  was  sobbing.  '  You  don't  know 
what  this  means  to  me.  It  takes  it  all  off — from 
the  beginning.' 

'  But  doesn't  it  make  any  difference  to  you 
now  ? '  the  nurse  asked  curiously.  '  Now  that 
you're  rightfully  a  woman  ? ' 

Conroy,  busy  with  his  bag,  had  not  heard. 
Miss  Henschil  stared  across,  and  her  beauty, 
freed  from  the  shadow  of  any  fear,  blazed  up 
within  her.  '  I  see  what  you  mean,'  she  said. 
'But  it  hasn't  changed  anything.  I  want  Toots. 
He  has  never  been  out  of  his  mind  in  his  life — 
except  over  silly  me.' 

*  It's  all  right/  said  Conroy,  stooping  under 
the  lamp,  Bradshaw  in  hand.  '  If  I  change  at 
Templecombe — for  Bristol  (Bristol — Hereford — 
yes) — I  can  be  with  mother  for  breakfast  in  her 
room  and  find  out.' 

1  Quick,  then,'  said  Nurse  Blaber.  '  We've 
passed  Gillingham  quite  a  while.  You'd  better 
take  some  of  our  sandwiches.'  She  went  out  to 
get  them.  Conroy  and  Miss  Henschil  would  have 
danced,  but  there  is  no  room  for  giants  in  a  South- 
western compartment. 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  101 

'  Good-bye,  good  luck,  lad.  Eh,  but  you've 
changed  already — like  me.  Send  a  wire  to  our 
hotel  as  soon  as  you're  sure,'  said  Miss  Henschil. 
'  What  should  I  have  done  without  you  ?  ' 

'  Or  I  ? '  said  Conroy.  '  But  it's  Nurse  that's 
saving  us  really.' 

'  Then  thank  her,'  said  Miss  Henschil,  looking 
straight  at  him.     '  Yes,  I  would.     She'd  like  it.' 

When  Nurse  Blaber  came  back  after  the 
parting  at  Templecombe  her  nose  and  her  eyelids 
were  red,  but,  for  all  that,  her  face  reflected  a  great 
light  even  while  she  sniffed  over  The  Cloister  and 
the  Hearth. 

Miss  Henschil,  deep  in  a  house  furnisher's 
catalogue,  did  not  speak  for  twenty  minutes. 
Then  she  said,  between  adding  totals  of  best, 
guest,  and  servants'  sheets,  '  But  why  should 
our  times  have  been  the  same,  Nursey  ? ' 

'  Because  a  child  is  born  somewhere  every 
second  of  the  clock,'  Nurse  Blaber  answered. 
'  And  besides  that,  you  probably  set  each  other 
off  by  talking  and  thinking  about  it.  You 
shouldn't,  you  know.' 

'Ay,  but  you've  never  been  in  Hell,'  said  Miss 
Henschil. 

The  telegram  handed  in  at  Hereford  at  12.46 
and  delivered  to  Miss  Henschil  on  the  beach  of 
a  certain  village  at  2.7  ran  thus  : 

'  "  Absolutely  confirmed.  She  says  she  remembers 
hearing  noise  of  accident  in  engine-room  returning 
from  India  eighty-five."  ' 

'  He  means  the  year,  not  the  thermometer,'  said 
Nurse  Blaber,  throwing  pebbles  at  the  cold  sea. 


102     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

' "  And  two  men  scalded  thus  explaining  my 
hoots."  (The  idea  of  telling  me  that  ! )  "  Sub- 
sequently silly  clergyman  passenger  ran  up  behind  her 
calling  for  joke j  l  Friend,  all  is  lost,'  thus  accounting 
very  words."  ' 

Nurse  Blaber  purred  audibly. 

*  "  She  says  only  remembers  being  upset  minute  or 

two.      Unspeakable  relief.     Best  love  Nursey,  who  is 

jewel.      Get  out  of  her  what  she  would  like  best." 

Oh,    I    oughtn't    to   have   read    that,'   said    Miss 

Henschil. 

1  It  doesn't  matter.  I  don't  want  anything,' 
said  Nurse  Blaber,  '  and  if  I  did  I  shouldn't 
get  it.' 


♦HELEN  ALL  ALONE' 

There  was  darkness  under  Heaven 

For  an  hour's  space — 
Darkness  that  we  knew  was  given 

Us  for  special  grace. 
Sun  and  moon  and  stars  were  hid, 

God  had  left  His  Throne, 
When  Helen  came  to  me,  she  did, 

Helen  all  alone  ! 

Side  by  side  (because  our  fate 

Damned  us  ere  our  birth) 
We  stole  out  of  Limbo  Gate 

Looking  for  the  Earth. 
Hand  in  pulling  hand  amid 

Fear  no  dreams  have  known, 
Helen  ran  with  me,  she  did, 

Helen  all  alone  ! 

When  the  Horror  passing  speech 

Hunted  us  along, 
Each  laid  hold  on  each,  and  each 

Found  the  other  strong. 
103 


104     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

In  the  teeth  of  things  forbid 
And  Reason  overthrown, 

Helen  stood  by  me,  she  did, 
Helen  all  alone  ! 

When,  at  last,  we  heard  the  Fires 

Dull  and  die  away, 
When,  at  last,  our  linked  desires 

Dragged  us  up  to  day, 
When,  at  last,  our  souls  were  rid 

Of  what  that  Night  had  shown, 
Helen  passed  from  me,  she  did, 

Helen  all  alone  ! 

Let  her  go  and  find  a  mate, 

As  I  will  find  a  bride, 
Knowing  naught  of  Limbo  Gate 

Or  Who  are  penned  inside. 
There  is  knowledge  God  forbid 

More  than  one  should  own. 
So  Helen  went  from  me,  she  did, 
Oh  my  soul,  be  glad  she  did  ! 

Helen  all  alone  ! 


The  Honours  of  War 

(i9n) 

A  hooded  motor  had  followed  mine  from  the 
Guildford  Road  up  the  drive  to  The  Infant's 
ancestral  hall,  and  had  turned  off  to  the  stables. 

'  We're  having  a  quiet  evening  together. 
Stalky's  upstairs  changing.  Dinner's  at  7.15 
sharp,  because  we're  hungry.  His  room's  next 
to  yours,'  said  The  Infant,  nursing  a  cobwebbed 
bottle  of  Burgundy. 

Then  I  found  Lieutenant  -  Colonel  A.  L. 
Corkran,  I. A.,  who  borrowed  a  collar-stud  and 
told  me  about  the  East  and  his  Sikh  regiment. 

'  And  are  your  subalterns  as  good  as  ever  ? '  I 
asked. 

*  Amazin' — simply  amazin'  !  All  I've  got  to 
do  is  to  find  'em  jobs.  Thev  keep  touchin'  their 
caps  to  me  and  askin'  for  more  work.  'Come  at 
me  with  their  tongues  hangin'  out.  /used  to  run 
the  other  way  at  their  age.' 

'  And  when  they  err  ? '  said  I.  '  I  suppose 
they  do  sometimes  ? ' 

'  Then   they   run   to   me   again   to   weep   with 


106     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

remorse  over  their  virgin  peccadilloes.  I  never 
cuddled  my  Colonel  when  I  was  in  trouble. 
Lambs — positive  lambs  ! ' 

*  And  what  do  you  say  to  'em  ? ' 

*  Talk  to  'em  like  a  papa.  Tell  'em  how  I 
can't  understand  it,  an'  how  shocked  I  am,  and 
how  grieved  their  parents  '11  be  ;  and  throw  in  a 
little  about  the  Army  Regulations  and  the  Ten 
Commandments.  'Makes  one  feel  rather  a  sweep 
when  one  thinks  of  what  one  used  to  do  at  their 
age.     D'you  remember ' 

We  remembered  together  till  close  on  seven 
o'clock.  As  we  went  out  into  the  gallery  that 
runs  round  the  big  hall,  we  saw  The  Infant,  below, 
talking  to  two  deferential  well-set-up  lads  whom 
I  had  known,  on  and  off,  in  the  holidays,  any  time 
for  the  last  ten  years.  One  of  them  had  a  bruised 
cheek,  and  the  other  a  weeping  left  eye. 

'  Yes,  that's  the  style,'  said  Stalky  below  his 
breath.  *  They're  brought  up  on  lemon-squash 
and  mobilisation  text-books.  I  say,  the  girls  we 
knew  must  have  been  much  better  than  they  pre- 
tended they  were ;  for  I'll  swear  it  isn't  the  fathers.' 

'  But  why  on  earth  did  you  do  it  ? '  The 
Infant  was  shouting.  *  You  know  what  it  means 
nowadays.' 

'  Well,  sir,'  said  Bobby  Trivett,  the  taller  of 
the  two,  *  Wontner  talks  too  much,  for  one  thing. 
He  didn't  join  till  he  was  twenty-three,  and, 
besides  that,  he  used  to  lecture  on  tactics  in  the 
ante-room.  He  said  Clausewitz  was  the  only 
tactician,  and  he  illustrated  his  theories  with  cigar- 
ends.     He  was  that  sort  of  chap,  sir.' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  107 

'  And  he  didn't  much  care  whose  cigar-ends 
they  were,'  said  Eames,  who  was  shorter  and 
pinker. 

'And  then  he  would  talk  about  the  'Varsity,' 
said  Bobby.  '  He  got  a  degree  there.  And  he 
told  us  we  weren't  intellectual.  He  told  the 
Adjutant  so,  sir.  He  was  just  that  kind  of  chap, 
sir,  if  you  understand.' 

Stalky  and  I  backed  behind  a  tall  Japanese  jar 
of  chrysanthemums  and  listened  more  intently. 

'  Was  all  the  Mess  in  it,  or  only  you  two  ? ' 
The  Infant  demanded,  chewing  his  moustache. 

'The  Adjutant  went  to  bed,  of  course,  sir, 
and  the  Senior  Subaltern  said  he  wasn't  going  to 
risk  his  commission — they're  awfully  down  on 
ragging  nowadays  in  the  Service — but  the  rest  of 
us — er — attended  to  him,'  said  Bobby. 

'  Much  ?  '  The  Infant  asked.  The  boys  smiled 
deprecatingly. 

'  Not  in  the  ante-room,  sir,'  said  Eames. 
'  Then  he  called  us  silly  children,  and  went  to  bed, 
and  we  sat  up  discussin',  and  I  suppose  we  got  a 
bit  above  ourselves,  and  we — er ' 

'  Went  to  his  quarters  and  drew  him  ? '  The 
Infant  suggested. 

*  Wtll,  we  only  asked  him  to  get  out  of  bed, 
and  we  put  his  helmet  and  sword-belt  on  for  him, 
and  we  sung  him  bits  out  of  the  Blue  Fairy  Book 
— the  cram-book  on  Army  organisation.  Oh 
yes,  and  then  we  asked  him  to  drink  old 
Clausewitz's  health,  as  a  brother-tactician,  in  milk 
punch  and  Worcester  sauce,  and  so  on.  We  had 
to    help    him    a   little    there.     He    bites.     There 


108     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

wasn't  much  else  that  time  ;  but,  you  know,  the 
War  Office  is  severe  on  ragging  these  days.' 
Bobby  stopped  with  a  lop-sided  smile. 

'  And  then,'  Eames  went  on,  *  then  Wontner 
said  we'd  done  several  pounds'  worth  of  damage 
to  his  furniture.' 

i  Oh,'  said  The  Infant,  *  he's  that  kind  of  man, 
is  he  ?     Does  he  brush  his  teeth  ? ' 

'  Oh  yes,  he's  quite  clean  all  over! '  said  Trivett; 
'  but  his  father's  a  wealthy  barrister.' 

*  Solicitor,'  Eames  corrected, '  and  so  this  Mister 
Wontner  is  out  for  our  blood.  He's  going  to 
make  a  first-class  row  about  it — appeal  to  the  War 
Office — court  of  inquiry — spicy  bits  in  the  papers, 
and  songs  in  the  music-halls.     He  told  us  so.' 

'  That's  the  sort  of  chap  he  is,'  said  Trivett. 
'  And  that  means  old  Dhurrah-bags,  our  Colonel, 
'II  be  put  on  half-pay,  same  as  that  case  in  the 
Scarifungers'  Mess  ;  and  our  Adjutant  '11  have  to 
exchange,  like  it  was  with  that  fellow  in  the  73rd 
Dragoons,  and  there'll  be  misery  all  round.  He 
means  making  it  too  hot  for  us,  and  his  papa  '11 
back  him.' 

'  Yes,  that's  all  very  fine,'  said  The  Infant  ;  '  but 
I  left  the  Service  about  the  time  you  were  born, 
Bobby.     What's  it  got  to  do  with  me  ?  ' 

'  Father  told  me  I  was  always  to  go  to  you 
when  I  was  in  trouble,  and  you've  been  awfully 
good  to  me  since  he  .   .   .' 

*  Better  stay  to  dinner.'  The  Infant  mopped 
his  forehead. 

'  Thank  you  very  much,  but  the  fact  is ' 

Trivett  halted. 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  109 

'This  afternoon,  about  four,  to  be  exact ' 

Eames  broke  in. 

'  We  went  over  to  Wontner's  quarters  to  talk 
things  over.  The  row  only  happened  last  night,  and 
we  found  him  writing  letters  as  hard  as  he  could  to 
his  father — getting  up  his  case  for  the  War  Office, 
you  know.  He  read  us  some  of  'em,  but  I'm  not 
a  good  judge  of  style.  We  tried  to  ride  him  off 
quietly — apologies  and  so  forth — but  it  was  the 
milk-punch  and  mayonnaise  that  defeated  us.' 

'  Yes,  he  wasn't  taking  anything  except  pure 
revenge,'  said  Eames. 

1  He  said  he'd  make  an  example  of  the  regiment, 
and  he  was  particularly  glad  that  he'd  landed  our 
Colonel.  He  told  us  so.  Old  Dhurrah-bags 
don't  sympathise  with  Wontner's  tactical  lectures. 
He  says  Wontner  ought   to   learn   manners  first, 

but  we  thought '     Trivett  turned  to  Eames, 

who  was  less  a  son  of  the  house  than  himself, 
Eames'  father  being  still  alive. 

*  Then,'  Eames  went  on,  '  he  became  rather 
noisome,  and  we  thought  we  might  as  well  im- 
pound the  correspondence' — he  wrinkled  his 
swelled  left  eye — '  and  after  that,  we  got  him  to 
take  a  seat  in  my  car.' 

'  He  was  in  a  sack,  you  know,'  Trivett  ex- 
plained. '  He  wouldn't  go  any  other  way.  But 
we  didn't  hurt  him.' 

1  Oh  no  !  His  head's  sticking  out  quite  clear, 
and  ' — Eames  rushed  the  fence — '  we've  put  him 
in  your  garage — er  pendente  lite? 

*  My  garage ! '  Infant's  voice  nearly  broke 
with  horror. 


no     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Well,  father  always  told  me  if  I  was  in 
trouble,  Uncle  George ' 

Bobby's  sentence  died  away  as  The  Infant 
collapsed  on  a  divan  and  said  no  more  than, 
'  Your  commissions  !  '  There  was  a  long,  long 
silence. 

*  What  price  your  latter-day  lime-juice  sub- 
altern?' I  whispered  to  Stalky  behind  my  hand. 
His  nostrils  expanded,  and  he  drummed  on  the 
edge  of  the  Japanese  jar  with  his  knuckles. 

'  Confound  your  father,  Bobby  ! '  The  Infant 
groaned.  '  Raggin's  a  criminal  offence  these  days. 
It  isn't  as  if ' 

1  Come  on,'  said  Stalky.  '  That  was  my  old 
Line  battalion  in  Egypt.  They  nearly  slung  old 
Dhurrah-bags  and  me  out  of  the  Service  in  '85  for 
ragging.'  He  descended  the  stairs  and  The 
Infant  rolled  appealing  eyes  at  him. 

'  I  heard  what  you  youngsters  have  confessed,' 
he  began  ;  and  in  his  orderly-room  voice,  which 
is  almost  as  musical  as  his  singing  one,  he  tongue- 
lashed  those  lads  in  such  sort  as  was  a  privilege 
and  a  revelation  to  listen  to.  Till  then  they  had 
known  him  almost  as  a  relative — we  were  all 
brevet,  deputy,  or  acting  uncles  to  The  Infant's 
friends'  brood — a  sympathetic  elder  brother,  sound 
on  finance.  They  had  never  met  Colonel  A.  L. 
Corkran  in  the  Chair  of  Justice.  And  while  he 
flayed  and  rent  and  blistered,  and  wiped  the  floor 
with  them,  and  while  they  looked  for  hiding-places 
and  found  none  on  that  floor,  I  remembered  (1) 
the  up-ending  of  '  Dolly  '  Macshane  at  Dalhousie, 
which    came    perilously  near    a    court-martial    on 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  in 

Second-Lieutenant  Corkran  ;  (2)  the  burning  of 
Captain  Parmilee's  mosquito-curtains  on  a  hot 
Indian  dawn,  when  the  captain  slept  in  his  garden, 
and  Lieutenant  Corkran,  smoking,  rode  by  after 
a  successful  whist  night  at  the  club  ;  (3)  the 
introduction  of  an  ekka  pony,  with  ekka  attached, 
into  a  brother  captain's  tent  on  a  frosty  night  in 
Peshawur,  and  the  removal  of  tent,  pole,  cot,  and 
captain  all  wrapped  in  chilly  canvas  ;  (4)  the 
bath  that  was  given  to  Elliot-Hacker  on  his  own 
verandah — his  lady-love  saw  it  and  broke  ofF  the 
engagement,  which  was  what  the  Mess  intended, 
she  being  an  Eurasian — and  the  powdering  all 
over  of  Elliot-Hacker  with  flour  and  turmeric 
from  the  bazaar. 

When  he  took  breath  I  realised  how  only 
Satan  can  rebuke  sin.  The  good  don't  know 
enough. 

*  Now,'  said  Stalky,  '  get  out  !  No,  not  out  of 
the  house.     Go  to  your  rooms.' 

'  1  11  send  your  dinner,  Bobby,'  said  The  Infant. 
< Ipr s  !  ' 

Nothing  had  ever  been  known  to  astonish  Ipps, 
the  butler.  He  entered  and  withdrew  with  his 
charges.  After  all,  he  had  suffered  from  Bobby 
since  Bobby's  twelfth  year. 

4  They've  done  everything  thev  could,  short  of 
murder,'  said  The  Infant.  '  You  know  what 
this'll  mean  for  the  regiment.  It  isn't  as  if  we 
were  dealing  with  Sahibs  nowadays.' 

'  Quite  so.'  Stalky  turned  on  me.  '  Go  and 
release  the  bagman,'  he  said. 

*  'Tisn't  my  garage,'  I  pleaded.     '  I'm  company. 


ii2     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Besides,  he'll  probably  slay  me.  He's  been  in  the 
sack  for  hours.' 

'  Look  here,'  Stalky  thundered — the  years  had 
fallen  from  us  both — '  is  your — am  I  commandin' 
or  are  you?  We've  got  to  pull  this  thing  off 
somehow  or  other.  Cut  over  to  the  garage,  make 
much  of  him,  and  bring  him  over.  He's  dining 
with  us.      Be  quick,  you  dithering  ass  ! ' 

I  was  quick  enough  ;  but  as  I  ran  through  the 
shrubbery  I  wondered  how  one  extricates  the 
subaltern  of  the  present  day  from  a  sack  without 
hurting  his  feelings.  Anciently,  one  slit  the  end 
open,  taking  off  his  boots  first,  and  then  fled. 

Imagine  a  sumptuously-equipped  garage,  half- 
filled  by  The  Infant's  cobalt-blue,  grey-corded 
silk  limousine  and  a  mud-splashed,  cheap,  hooded 
four-seater.  In  the  back-seat  of  this  last,  conceive 
a  fiery  chestnut  head  emerging  from  a  long  oat- 
sack  ;  an  implacable  white  face,  with  blazing  eyes 
and  jaws  that  worked  ceaselessly  at  the  loop  of  the 
string  that  was  drawn  round  its  neck.  The  effect, 
under  the  electrics,  was  that  of  a  demon  caterpillar 
wrathfully  spinning  its  own  cocoon. 

'  Good  evening  ! '  I  said  genially.  '  Let  me 
help  you  out  of  that.'  The  head  glared.  *  We've 
got  'em,'  I  went  on.  '  They  came  to  quite  the 
wrong  shop  for  this  sort  of  game — quite  the  wrong 
shop.' 

'  Game  ! '  said  the  head.  '  We'll  see  about 
that.     Let  me  out.' 

It  was  not  a  promising  voice  for  one  so  young, 
and,  as  usual,  I  had  no  knife. 

'You've  chewed  the  string  so  I  can't  find  the 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  113 

knot,'  I  said  as  I  worked  with  trembling  fingers 
at  the  caterpillar's  throat.  Something  untied  itself, 
and  Mr.  Wontner  wriggled  out,  collarless,  tieless, 
his  coat  split  half  down  his  back,  his  waistcoat 
unbuttoned,  his  watch-chain  snapped,  his  trousers 
rucked  well  above  the  knees. 

'  Where,'  he  said  grimly,  as  he  pulled  them 
down,  '  are  Master  Trivett  and  Master  Eames  ? ' 

1  Both  arrested,  of  course,'  I  replied.  '  Sir 
George ' — I  gave  The  Infant's  full  title  as  a  baronet 
— c  is  a  Justice  of  the  Peace.  He'd  be  very 
pleased  if  you  dined  with  us.  There's  a  room 
ready  for  you.'     I  picked  up  the  sack. 

'  D'you  know,'  said  Mr.  Wontner  through  his 
teeth — but  the  car's  bonnet  was  between  us,  i  that 
this  looks  to  me  like — I  won't  say  conspiracy  yet^ 
but  uncommonly  like  a  confederacy.' 

When  injured  souls  begin  to  distinguish  and 
qualify,  danger  is  over.     So  I  grew  bold. 

'  'Sorry  you  take  it  that  way,'  I  said.  '  You 
come  here  in  trouble ' 

1  My  good  fool,'  he  interrupted,  with  a  half- 
hysterical  snort, '  let  me  assure  you  that  the  trouble 
will  recoil  on  the  other  men  ! ' 

'  As  you  please,'  I  went  on.  *  Anyhow,  the 
chaps  who  got  you  into  trouble  are  arrested, 
and  the  magistrate  who  arrested  'em  asks  you  to 
dinner.  Shall  I  tell  him  you're  walking  back  to 
Aldershot  ? ' 

He  picked  some  fluff  off  his  waistcoat. 

1  I'm  in  no  position  to  dictate  terms  yet,'  he 
said.  '  That  will  come  later.  I  must  probe  into 
this  a  little  further.     In  the  meantime,  I  accept 

1 


1 14     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

your  invitation  without  prejudice — if  you  under- 
stand what  that  means.' 

I  understood  and  began  to  be  happy  again. 
Subalterns  without  prejudices  were  quite  new 
to  me.  '  All  right,'  I  replied  ;  '  if  you'll  go  up 
to  the  house,  I'll  turn  out  the  lights.' 

He  walked  off  stiffly,  while  I  searched  the 
sack  and  the  car  for  the  impounded  correspond- 
ence that  Bobby  had  talked  of.  I  found  nothing 
except,  as  the  police  reports  say,  the  trace  of  a 
struggle.  He  had  kicked  half  the  varnish  off  the 
back  of  the  front  seat,  and  had  bitten  the  leather 
padding  where  he  could  reach  it.  Evidently  a 
purposeful  and  hard-mouthed  young  gentleman. 

•  Well  done  ! '  said  Stalky  at  the  door.  *  So  he 
didn't  slay  you.  Stop  laughing.  He's  talking  to 
The  Infant  now  about  depositions.  Look  here, 
you're  nearest  his  size.  Cut  up  to  your  rooms 
and  give  Ipps  your  dinner  things  and  a  clean  shirt 
for  him.' 

1  But  I  haven't  got  another  suit,'  I  said. 

'  You  !  I'm  not  thinking  of  you  !  We've  got 
to  conciliate  him.  He's  in  filthy  rags  and  a  filthy 
temper,  and  he  won't  feel  decent  till  he's  dressed. 
You're  the  sacrifice.  Be  quick  !  And  clean  socks, 
remember  !  ' 

Once  more  I  trotted  up  to  my  room,  changed 
into  unseasonable  unbrushed  grey  tweeds,  put  studs 
into  a  clean  shirt,  dug  out  fresh  socks,  handed  the 
whole  garniture  over  to  Ipps,  and  returned  to 
the  hall  just  in  time  to  hear  Stalky  say,  '  I'm  a 
stockbroker,  but  I  have  the  honour  to  hold  His 
Majesty's  commission  in  a  Territorial   battalion.' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  115 

Then  I  felt  as  though  I  might  be  beginning  to  be 
repaid. 

' 1  have  a  very  high  opinion  of  the  Territorials 
myself,'  said  Mr.  Wontner  above  a  glass  of  sherry. 
(Infant  never  lets  us  put  bitters  into  anything 
above  twenty  years  old.)  *  But  if  you  had  any 
experience  of  the  Service,  you  would  find  that  the 
Average  Army  Man ' 

Here  The  Infant  suggested  changing,  and 
Ipps,  before  whom  no  human  passion  can  assert 
itself,  led  Mr.  Wontner  away. 

*  Why  the  devil  did  you  tell  him  I  was  on  the 
Bench  ? '  said  Infant  wrathfully  to  me.  '  You 
know  I  ain't  now.  Why  didn't  he  stay  in  his 
father's  office  ?      He's  a  raging  blight !  ' 

'  Not  a  bit  of  it,'  said  Stalky  cheerfully.  '  He's 
a  little  shaken  and  excited.  Probably  Beetle 
annoyed  him  in  the  garage,  but  we  must  overlook 
that.  We've  contained  him  so  far,  and  I'm  going 
to  nibble  round  his  outposts  at  dinner.  All 
you've  got  to  do,  Infant,  is  to  remember  you're 
a  gentleman  in  your  own  house.  Don't  hop ! 
You'll  find  it  pretty  difficult  before  dinner's  over. 
I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  at  all  from  you, 
Beetle.' 

'But  I'm  just  beginning  to  like  him,'  I  said. 
'  Do  let  me  play  ! ' 

'  Not  till  I  ask  you.  You'll  overdo  it.  Poor 
old  Dhurrah-bags  !     A  scandal  'ud  break  him  up  ! ' 

1  But  as  long  as  a  regiment  has  no  say  as  to 
who  joins  it,  it's  bound  to  rag,'  Infant  began. 
'  Why — why,  they  varnished  me  when  I  joined  ! ' 
He  squirmed  at  the  thought  of  it. 


n6     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Don't  be  owls  !  We  ain't  discussing  principles  ! 
We've  got  to  save  the  court  of  inquiry  if  we  can,' 
said  Stalky. 

Five  minutes  later — at  7.45  to  be  precise— we 
four  sat  down  to  such  a  dinner  as,  I  hold,  only 
The  Infant's  cook  can  produce,  with  wines  worthy 
of  pontifical  banquets.  A  man  in  the  extremity 
of  rage  and  injured  dignity  is  precisely  like  a 
typhoid  patient.  He  asks  no  questions,  accepts 
what  is  put  before  him,  and  babbles  in  one  key — 
very  often  of  trifles.  But  food  and  drink  are  the 
very  best  of  drugs.  I  think  it  was  Heidsieck 
Dry  Monopole  '92 — Stalky  as  usual  stuck  to 
Burgundy — that  began  to  unlock  Mr.  Wontner's 
heart  behind  my  shirt-front.  Me  he  snubbed 
throughout,  after  the  Oxford  manner,  because  I 
had  seen  him  in  the  sack,  and  he  did  not  intend 
me  to  presume  ;  but  to  Stalky  and  The  Infant, 
while  I  admired  the  set  of  my  dinner-jacket  across 
his  shoulders,  he  made  his  plans  of  revenge  very 
clear  indeed.  He  had  even  sketched  out  some  of 
the  paragraphs  that  were  to  appear  in  the  papers, 
and  if  Stalky  had  allowed  me  to  speak,  I  would 
have  told  him  that  they  were  rather  neatly  phrased. 

1  You  ought  to  be  able  to  get  whackin'  damages 
out  of  'em,  into  the  bargain,'  said  Stalky,  after 
Mr.  Wontner  had  outlined  his  position  legally. 

'  My  de-ah  sir,'  Mr.  Wontner  applied  himself 
to  his  glass,  '  it  isn't  a  matter  that  gentlemen 
usually  discuss,  but,  I  assure  you,  we  Wontners  ' — 
he  waved  a  well-kept  hand — '  do  not  stand  in  any 
need  of  filthy  lucre.'  In  the  next  three  minutes, 
we    learned   exactly  what  his   father   was    worth, 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR         117 

which,  as  he  pointed  out,  was  a  trifle  no  man  of 
the  world  dwelt  on.  Stalky  envied  aloud,  and  I 
delivered  my  first  kick  at  The  Infant's  ankle. 
Thence  we  drifted  to  education,  and  the  Average 
Army  Man,  and  the  desolating  vacuity — I  re- 
member these  words — of  Army  Society,  notably 
among  its  womenkind.  It  appeared  there  was 
some  sort  of  narrow  convention  in  the  Army 
against  mentioning  a  woman's  name  at  Mess.  We 
were  much  surprised  at  this — Stalky  would  not 
let  me  express  my  surprise — but  we  took  it  from 
Mr.  Wontner,  who  said  we  might,  that  it  was 
so.  Next  he  touched  on  Colonels  of  the  old 
school,  and  their  cognisance  of  tactics.  Not  that 
he  himself  pretended  to  any  skill  in  tactics,  but 
after  three  years  at  the  'Varsity — none  of  us  had 
had  a  'Varsity  education — a  man  insensibly  con- 
tracted the  habit  of  clear  thinking.  At  least,  he 
could  automatically  co-ordinate  his  ideas,  and  the 
jealousy  of  these  muddle-headed  Colonels  was  in- 
conceivable. We  would  understand  that  it  was 
his  duty  to  force  on  the  retirement  of  his  Colonel, 
who  had  been  in  the  conspiracy  against  him  ;  to 
make  his  Adjutant  resign  or  exchange  ;  and  to 
give  the  half-dozen  childish  subalterns  who  had 
vexed  his  dignity  a  chance  to  retrieve  themselves 
in  other  corps — West  African  ones,  he  hoped. 
For  himself,  after  the  case  was  decided,  he  pro- 
posed to  go  on  living  in  the  regiment,  just  to 
prove — for  he  bore  no  malice — that  times  had 
changed,  nosque  mutamur  in  Mis — if  we  knew  what 
that  meant.  Infant  had  curled  his  legs  out  of 
reach,  so   I   was  quite  free  to  return  thanks  yet 


n8     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

once  more  to  Allah  for  the  diversity  of  His 
creatures  in  His  adorable  world. 

And  so,  by  way  of  an  eighty-year-old  liqueur 
brandy,  to  tactics  and  the  great  General  Clausewitz, 
unknown  to  the  Average  Army  Man.  Here  The 
Infant,  at  a  whisper  from  Ipps — whose  face  had 
darkened  like  a  mulberry  while  he  waited — ex- 
cused himself  and  went  away,  but  Stalky,  Colonel 
of  Territorials,  wanted  some  tips  on  tactics.  He 
got  them  unbrokenly  for  ten  minutes — Wontner 
and  Clausewitz  mixed,  but  Wontner  in  a  film  of 
priceless  cognac  distinctly  on  top.  When  The 
Infant  came  back,  he  renewed  his  clear-spoken 
demand  that  Infant  should  take  his  depositions. 
I  supposed  this  to  be  a  family  trait  of  the 
Wontners,  whom  I  had  been  visualising  for  some 
time  past  even  to  the  third  generation. 

1  But,  hang  it  all,  they're  both  asleep  ! '  said 
Infant,  scowling  at  me.  *  Ipps  let  'em  have  the 
'8 1  port.' 

*  Asleep  ! '  said  Stalky,  rising  at  once.  '  I  don't 
see  that  makes  any  difference.  As  a  matter  of 
form,  you'd  better  identify  them.  I'll  show  you 
the  way.' 

We  followed  up  the  white  stone  side-staircase 
that  leads  to  the  bachelors'  wing.  Mr.  Wontner 
seemed  surprised  that  the  boys  were  not  in  the 
coal-cellar. 

'  Oh,  a  chap's  assumed  to  be  innocent  until  he's 
proved  guilty,'  said  Stalky,  mounting  step  by  step. 
*  How  did  they  get  you  into  the  sack,  Mr. 
Wontner  ? ' 

'  Jumped  on  me  from  behind — two  to  one,'  said 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR         119 

Mr.  Wontncr  briefly.  '  I  think  I  handed  each  of 
them  something  first,  but  they  roped  my  arms  and 
legs.' 

1  And  did  they  photograph  you  in  the  sack  ? ' 

1  Good  Heavens,  no !  '    Mr.  Wontner  shuddered. 

c  That's  lucky.  Awful  thing  to  live  down — a 
photograph,  isn't  it  ? '  said  Stalky  to  me  as  we 
reached  the  landing.  '  I'm  thinking  of  the  news- 
papers, of  course.' 

'  Oh,  but  you  can  easily  have  sketches  in  the 
illustrated  papers  from  accounts  supplied  by  eye- 
witnesses,' I  said. 

Mr.  Wontner  turned  him  round.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  honoured  me  by  his  notice  since 
our  talk  in  the  garage. 

'  Ah/  said  he,  '  do  you  pretend  to  any  special 
knowledge  in  these  matters  ? ' 

1  I'm  a  journalist  by  profession,'  I  answered 
simply  but  nobly.  *  As  soon  as  you're  at  liberty, 
I'd  like  to  have  your  account  of  the  affair.' 

Now  I  thought  he  would  have  loved  me  for 
this,  but  he  only  replied  in  an  uncomfortable,  un- 
coming-on  voice,  '  Oh,  you  would,  would  you  ?  ' 

*  Not  if  it's  any  trouble,  of  course,'  I  said.  *  I 
can  always  get  their  version  from  the  defendants. 
Do  either  of  'em  draw  or  sketch  at  all,  Mr. 
Wontner  ?     Or  perhaps  your  father  might ' 

Then  he  said  quite  hotly,  '  I  wish  you  to 
understand  very  clearly,  my  good  man,  that  a 
gentleman's  name  can't  be  dragged  through  the 
gutter  to  bolster  up  the  circulation  of  your  wretched 
sheet,  whatever  it  may  be.' 

*  It  is  '     I  named  a  journal  of  enormous 


120     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

sales  which  specialises  in  scholastic,  military,  and 
other  scandals.  '  I  don't  know  yet  what  it  can't 
do,  Mr.  Wontner.' 

'  I  didn't  know  that  I  was  dealing  with  a  re- 
porter,' said  Mr.  Wontner. 

We  were  all  halted  outside  a  shut  door.  Ipps 
had  followed  us. 

'But  surely  you  want  it  in  the  papers,  don't 
you  ? '  I  urged.  '  With  a  scandal  like  this,  one 
couldn't,  in  justice  to  the  democracy,  be  exclusive. 
We'd  syndicate  it  here  and  in  the  United  States. 
I  helped  you  out  of  the  sack,  if  you  remember.' 

'  I  wish  to  goodness  you'd  stop  talking  !  '  he 
snapped,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair.  Stalky's  hand 
on  my  shoulder  quietly  signalled  me  out  of  action, 
but  I  felt  that  my  fire  had  not  been  misdirected. 

1  I'll  answer  for  him,'  said  Stalky  to  Wontner, 
in  an  undertone  that  dropped  to  a  whisper.  I 
caught — *  Not  without  my  leave — dependent  on 
me  for  market-tips,'  and  other  gratifying  tributes 
to  my  integrity. 

Still  Mr.  Wontner  sat  in  his  chair,  and  still  we 
waited  on  him.  The  Infant's  face  showed  worry 
and  heavy  grief;  Stalky's,  a  bright  and  bird-like 
interest ;  mine  was  hidden  behind  his  shoulders, 
but  on  the  face  of  Ipps  were  written  emotions  that 
no  butler  should  cherish  towards  any  guest.  Con- 
tempt and  wrath  were  the  least  of  them.  And 
Mr.  Wontner  was  looking  full  at  Ipps,  as  Ipps  was 
looking  at  him.  Mr.  Wontner's  father,  I  under- 
stood, kept  a  butler  and  two  footmen. 

'  D'you  suppose  they're  shamming,  in  order  to 
get  off? '  he  said  at  last.     Ipps  shook  his  head  and 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  121 

noiselessly  threw  the  door  open.  The  boys  had 
finished  their  dinner  and  were  fast  asleep — one  on 
a  sofa,  one  in  a  long  chair — their  faces  fallen  back 
to  the  lines  of  their  childhood.  They  had  had  a 
wildish  night,  a  hard  day,  that  ended  with  a  telling- 
off  from  an  artist,  and  the  assurance  they  had 
wrecked  their  prospects  for  life.  What  else  should 
youth  do,  then,  but  eat,  and  drink  '81  port,  and 
remember  their  sorrows  no  more  ? 

Mr.  Wontner  looked  at  them  severely,  Ipps 
within  easy  reach,  his  hands  quite  ready.  '  Childish,' 
said  Mr.  Wontner  at  last.  *  Childish  but  necessary. 
Er — have  you  such,  a  thing  as  a  rope  on  the 
premises,  and  a  sack — two  sacks  and  two  ropes  ? 
I'm  afraid  I  can't  resist  the  temptation.  That  man 
understands,  doesn't  he,  that  this  is  a  private 
matter  ? ' 

'  That  man,'  who  was  me,  was  off  to  the  base- 
ment like  one  of  Infant's  own  fallow-deer.  The 
stables  gave  me  what  I  wanted,  and  coming  back 
with  it  through  a  dark  passage,  I  ran  squarely  into 
Ipps.  '  Go  on  !  '  he  grunted.  *  The  minute  he 
lays  hands  on  Master  Bobby,  Master  Bobby's  saved. 
But  that  person  ought  to  be  told  how  near  he  came 
to  being  assaulted.  It  was  touch-and-go  with  me 
all  the  time  from  the  soup  down,  I  assure  you.' 

I  arrived  breathless  with  the  sacks  and  the  ropes. 
'  They  were  two  to  one  with  me,'  said  Mr. 
Wontner,  as  he  took  them.     '  If  they  wake ' 

1  We'll  stand  by,'  Stalky  replied.  '  Two  to 
one  is  quite  fair.' 

But  the  boys  hardly  grunted  as  Mr.  Wontner 
roped  first  one  and  then  the  other.     Even  when 


122     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

they  were  slid  into  the  sacks  they  only  mumbled, 
with  rolling  heads,  through  sticky  lips  and  snored  on. 

*  Port  ? '  said  Mr.  Wontner  virtuously. 

*  Nervous  exhaustion.  They  aren't  much  more 
than  kids,  after  all.     What's  next  ? '  said  Stalky. 

'  I  want  to  take  'em  away  with  me,  please.' 
Stalky  looked  at  him  with  respect. 

*  I'll  have  my  car  round  in  five  minutes,'  said 
The  Infant.  '  Ipps'll  help  carry  'em  downstairs,' 
and  he  shook  Mr.  Wontner  by  the  hand. 

We  were  all  perfectly  serious  till  the  two  bundles 
were  dumped  on  a  divan  in  the  hall,  and  the  boys 
waked  and  began  to  realise  what  had  happened. 

'  Yah  ! '  said  Mr.  Wontner,  with  the  simplicity 
of  twelve  years  old.  '  Who's  scored  now  ? '  And 
he  sat  upon  them.  The  tension  broke  in  a  storm 
of  laughter,  led,  I  think,  by  Ipps. 

'Asinine — absolutely  asinine ! '  said  Mr.  Wontner, 
with  folded  arms  from  his  lively  chair.  But  he 
drank  in  the  flattery  and  the  fellowship  of  it  all 
with  quite  a  brainless  grin,  as  we  rolled  and 
stamped  round  him,  and  wiped  the  tears  from  our 
cheeks. 

'  Hang  it  ! '  said  Bobby  Trivett.  *  We're 
defeated  ! ' 

*  By  tactics,  too,'  said  Eames.  '  I  didn't  think 
you  knew  'em,  Clausewitz.  It's  a  fair  score. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  us  ? ' 

*  Take  you  back  to  Mess,'  said  Mr.  Wontner. 
'  Not  like  this  ? ' 

1  Oh  no.  Worse — much  worse !  I  haven't 
begun  with  you  yet.  And  you  thought  you'd 
scored  !     Yah  ! ' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR         123 

They  had  scored  beyond  their  wildest  dream. 
The  man  in  whose  hands  it  lay  to  shame  them, 
their  Colonel,  their  Adjutant,  their  Regiment,  and 
their  Service,  had  cast  away  all  shadow  of  his 
legal  rights  for  the  sake  of  a  common  or  bear- 
garden rag — such  a  rag  as  if  it  came  to  the  ears 
of  the  authorities,  would  cost  him  his  commission. 
They  were  saved,  and  their  saviour  was  their 
equal  and  their  brother.  So  they  chaffed  and 
reviled  him  as  such  till  he  again  squashed  the 
breath  out  of  them,  and  we  others  laughed  louder 
than  they. 

*  Fall  in  ! '  said  Stalky  when  the  limousine 
came  round.  '  This  is  the  score  of  the  century. 
I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  a  brigade  !  We  shan't  be 
long,  Infant !  ' 

I  hurried  into  a  coat. 

'  Is  there  any  necessity  for  that  reporter-chap 
to  come  too  ? '  said  Mr.  Wontner  in  an  unguarded 
whisper.      '  He  isn't  dressed  for  one  thing.' 

Bobby  and  Eames  wriggled  round  to  look  at 
the  reporter,  began  a  joyous  bellow,  and  suddenly 
stopped. 

•  What's  the  matter  ? '  said  Wontner  with  sus- 
picion. 

'  Nothing,'  said  Bobby.  '  I  die  happy,  Clause- 
witz.     Take  me  up  tenderly.' 

We  packed  into  the  car,  bearing  our  sheaves 
with  us,  and  for  half  an  hour,  as  the  cool  night- 
air  fanned  his  thoughtful  brow,  Mr.  Wontner  was 
quite  abreast  of  himself.  Though  he  said  nothing 
unworthy,  he  triumphed  and  trumpeted  a  little 
loudly  over  the  sacks.     I  sat  between  them  on  the 


i24     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

back  seat,  and  applauded  him  servilely  till  he  re- 
minded me  that  what  I  had  seen  and  what  he  had 
said  was  not  for  publication.  I  hinted,  while  the 
boys  plunged  with  joy  inside  their  trappings,  that 
this  might  be  a  matter  for  arrangement.  '  Then 
a  sovereign  shan't  part  us,'  said  Mr.  Wontner 
cheerily,  and  both  boys  fell  into  lively  hysterics. 
'  I  don't  see  where  the  joke  comes  in  for  you,'  said 
Mr.  Wontner.  '  I  thought  it  was  my  little  jokelet 
to-night.' 

'  No,  Clausewitz,'  gasped  Bobby.  '  Some  is, 
but  not  all.  I'll  be  good  now.  I'll  give  you  my 
parole  till  we  get  to  Mess.  1  wouldn't  be  out  of 
this  for  a  fiver.' 

'  Nor  me,'  said  Eames,  and  he  gave  his  parole 
to  attempt  no  escape  or  evasion. 

'  Now,  I  suppose,'  said  Mr.  Wontner  largely 
to  Stalky,  as  we  neared  the  suburbs  of  Ash,  '  you 
have  a  good  deal  of  practical  joking  on  the  Stock 
Exchange,  haven't  you  ?  ' 

'  And  when  were  you  on  the  Stock  Exchange, 
Uncle  Leonard?'  piped  Bobby,  while  Eames  laid 
his  sobbing  head  on  my  shoulder. 

'  I'm  sorry,'  said  Stalky,  '  but  the  fact  is,  I 
command  a  regiment  myself  when  I'm  at  home. 
Your  Colonel  knows  me,  I  think.'  He  gave  his 
name.  Mr.  Wontner  seemed  to  have  heard  of  it. 
We  had  to  pick  Eames  off  the  floor,  where  he  had 
cast  himself  from  excess  of  delight. 

'  Oh,  Heavens  !  '  said  Mr.  Wontner  after  a 
long  pause.  '  What  have  I  done  ?  What  haven't 
I  done  ? '  We  felt  the  temperature  in  the  car  rise 
as  he  blushed. 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR         125 

'  You  didn't  talk  tactics,  Clausewitz  ? '  said 
Bobby.     *  Oh,  say  it  wasn't  tactics,  darling  !  ' 

*  It  was,'  said  Wontner. 

Eames  was  all  among  our  feet  again,  crying, 
1  If  you  don't  let  me  get  my  arms  up,  I'll  be  sick. 
Let's  hear  what  you  said.     Tell  us.' 

But  Mr.  Wonter  turned  to  Stalky.  *  It's  no 
good  my  begging  your  pardon,  sir,  I  suppose,'  he 
said. 

'  Don't  you  notice  'em,'  said  Stalky.  '  It  was  a 
fair  rag  all  round,  and  anyhow,  you  two  youngsters 
haven't  any  right  to  talk  tactics.  You've  been 
rolled  up,  horse,  foot,  and  guns.' 

1  I'll  make  a  treaty.  If  you'll  let  us  go  and 
change  presently,'  said  Bobby,  '  I'll  promise  we 
won't  tell  about  you,  Clausewitz.  Tou  talked 
tactics  to  Uncle  Len  ?  Old  Dhurrah-bags  will 
like  that.     He  don't  love  you,  Claus.' 

*  If  I've  made  one  ass  of  myself,  I  shall  take 
extra  care  to  make  asses  of  you  ! '  said  Wontner. 
*  I  want  to  stop,  please,  at  the  next  milliner's  shop 
on  the  right.     It  ought  to  be  close  here.' 

He  evidently  knew  the  country  even  in  the 
dark,  for  the  car  stopped  at  a  brilliantly-lighted 
millinery  establishment,  where — it  was  Saturday 
evening  —  a  young  lady  was  clearing  up  the 
counter.  I  followed  him,  as  a  good  reporter 
should. 

'  Have  you  got '  he  began.      '  Ah,  those'll 

do  ! '  He  pointed  to  two  hairy  plush  beehive 
bonnets,  one  magenta,  the  other  a  conscientious 
electric  blue.  '  How  much,  please  ?  I'll  take 
them  both,  and  that  bunch  of  peacock   feathers, 


126     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  that  red  feather  thing.'  It  was  a  brilliant 
crimson-dyed  pigeon's  wing. 

1  Now  I  want  some  yards  of  muslin  with  a  nice, 
fierce  pattern,  please.'  He  got  it — yellow  with 
black  tulips — and  returned  heavily  laden. 

'  Sorry  to  have  kept  you,'  said  he.  l  Now  we'll 
go  to  my  quarters  to  change  and  beautify.' 

We  came  to  them — opposite  a  dun  waste  of 
parade-ground  that  might  have  been  Mian  Mir — 
and  bugles  as  they  blew  and  drums  as  they  rolled 
set  heart-strings  echoing. 

We  hoisted  the  boys  out  and  arranged  them 
on  chairs,  while  Wontner  changed  into  uniform, 
but  stopped  when  he  saw  me  taking  off  my 
jacket. 

'  What  on  earth's  that  for  f '  said  he. 

'  Because  you've  been  wearing  my  evening 
things,'  I  said.  '  I  want  to  get  into  'em  again,  if 
you  don't  mind.' 

'  Then  you  aren't  a  reporter  ?  '  he  said. 

'  No,'  I  said,  '  but  that  shan't  part  us.' 

'  Oh,  hurry  ! '  cried  Eames  in  desperate  con- 
vulsions. *  We  can't  stand  this  much  longer. 
'Tisn't  fair  on  the  young.' 

*  I'll  attend  to  you  in  good  time,'  said  Wontner  ; 
and  when  he  had  made  careful  toilet,  he  unwrapped 
the  bonnets,  put  the  peacock's  feather  into  the 
magenta  one,  pinned  the  crimson  wing  on  the  blue 
one,  set  them  daintily  on  the  boys'  heads,  and 
bade  them  admire  the  effect  in  his  shaving-glass 
while  he  ripped  the  muslin  into  lengths,  bound  it 
first,  and  draped  it  artistically  afterwards  a  little 
below  their  knees.     He  finished  off  with  a  gigantic 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR         127 

sash-bow,  obi  fashion.  '  Hobble  skirts,'  he  ex- 
plained to  Stalky,  who  nodded  approval. 

Next  he  split  open  the  bottom  of  each  sack  so 
that  they  could  walk,  but  with  very  short  steps. 
*  I  ought  to  have  got  you  white  satin  slippers,'  he 
murmured,  'and  I'm  sorry  there's  no  rouge.' 

'  Don't  worry  on  our  account,  old  man — you're 
doing  us  proud,'  said  Bobby  from  under  his  hat. 
'  This  beats  milk-punch  and  mayonnaise.' 

'  Oh,  why  didn't  we  think  of  these  things 
when  we  had  him  at  our  mercy  ? '  Eames  wailed. 
1  Never  mind — we'll  try  it  on  the  next  chap. 
You've  a  mind,  Claus.' 

'  Now  we'll  call  on  'em  at  Mess,'  said  Wontner, 
as  they  minced  towards  the  door. 

'  I  think  I'll  call  on  your  Colonel,'  said  Stalky. 
'  He  oughtn't  to  miss  this.  Your  first  attempt  ? 
I  assure  you  I  couldn't  have  done  it  better  myself. 
Thank  you  ! '     He  held  out  his  hand. 

*  Thank  you>  sir  ! '  said  Wontner,  shaking  it. 
'  I'm  more  grateful  to  you  than  I  can  say,  and — 
and  I'd  like  you  to  believe  some  time  that  I'm  not 
quite  as  big  a ' 

'  Not  in  the  least,'  Stalky  interrupted.  *  If  I 
were  writing  a  confidential  report  on  you,  I  should 
put  you  down  as  rather  adequate.  Look  after 
your  geishas,  or  they'll  fall  ! ' 

We  watched  the  three  cross  the  road  and  dis- 
appear into  the  shadow  of  the  mess  verandah. 
There  was  a  noise.  Then  telephone  bells  rang,  a 
sergeant  and  a  mess  waiter  charged  out,  and  the 
noise  grew,  till  at  last  the  Mess  was  a  little  noisy. 

We  came  back,  ten  minutes  later,  with  Colonel 


128     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Dalziell,  who  had  been  taking  his  sorrows  to  bed 
with  him.  The  ante-room  was  quite  full  and 
visitors  were  still  arriving,  but  it  was  possible  to 
hear  oneself  speak  occasionally.  Trivett  and 
Eames,  in  sack  and  sash,  sat  side  by  side  on  a 
table,  their  hats  at  a  ravishing  angle,  coquettishly 
twiddling  their  tied  feet.  In  the  intervals  of  sing- 
ing '  Put  Me  Among  the  Girls,'  they  sipped  whisky- 
and-soda  held  to  their  lips  by,  I  regret  to  say,  a 
Major.  Public  opinion  seemed  to  be  against 
allowing  them  to  change  their  costume  till  they 
should  have  danced  in  it.  Wontner,  lying  more 
or  less  gracefully  at  the  level  of  the  chandelier  in 
the  arms  of  six  subalterns,  was  lecturing  on  tactics 
and  imploring  to  be  let  down,  which  he  was  with 
a  run  when  they  realised  that  the  Colonel  was 
there.  Then  he  picked  himself  up  from  the  sofa 
and  said  :  c  I  want  to  apologise,  sir,  to  you  and 
the  Mess  for  having  been  such  an  ass  ever  since  I 
joined  ! ' 

This  was  when  the  noise  began. 

Seeing  the  night  promised  to  be  wet,  Stalky 
and  I  went  home  again  in  The  Infant's  car.  It  was 
some  time  since  we  had  tasted  the  hot  air  that  lies 
between  the  cornice  and  the  ceiling  of  crowded 
rooms. 

After  half  an  hour's  silence,  Stalky  said  to  me  : 
'  I  don't  know  what  you've  been  doing,  but  I 
believe  I've  been  weepin'.  Would  you  put  that 
down  to  Burgundy  or  senile  decay  ?  ' 


THE  CHILDREN 

These  were  our  children  who  died  for  our  lands  : 
they  were  dear  in  our  sight. 
We  have  only  the. memory  left  of  their  home- 
treasured  sayings  and  laughter. 
The  price  of  our  loss  shall  be  paid  to  our  hands, 
not  another's  hereafter. 
Neither  the  Alien  nor  Priest  shall   decide  on  it. 
That  is  our  right. 

But  who  shall  return  us  the  children  ? 

At  the  hour  the  Barbarian  chose  to  disclose  his 
pretences, 
And  raged  against  Man,  they  engaged,  on  the 

breasts  that  they  bared  for  us, 
The    first    felon-stroke   of    the   sword   he    had 
long-time  prepared  for  us — 
Their    bodies    were    all    our    defence    while    we 
wrought  our  defences. 

They  bought  us  anew  with  their  blood,  forbearing 

to  blame  us, 
Those  hours  which  we  had  not  made  good  when 

the  Judgment  o'ercame  us. 

129  k. 


130     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

They  believed  us  and  perished  for  it.  Our  state- 
craft, our  learning 

Delivered  them  bound  to  the  Pit  and  alive  to  the 
burning 

Whither  they  mirthfully  hastened  as  jostling  for 
honour. 

Not  since  her  birth  has  our  Earth  seen  such 
worth  loosed  upon  her. 

Nor  was  their  agony  brief,  or  once  only  imposed 
on  them. 
The  wounded,  the  war-spent,  the  sick  received 

no  exemption  : 
Being   cured    they   returned   and   endured   and 
achieved  our  redemption, 
Hopeless  themselves  of  relief,  till  Death,  marvelling, 
closed  on  them. 

That  flesh  we   had   nursed   from   the  first   in  all 

cleanness  was  given 
To  corruption  unveiled  and  assailed  by  the  malice 

of  Heaven — 
By  the  heart-shaking  jests  of  Decay  where  it  lolled 

on  the  wires — 
To  be  blanched  or  gay-painted  by  fumes — to  be 

cindered  by  fires — 
To    be    senselessly   tossed    and    retossed    in   stale 

mutilation 
From   crater   to   crater.     For   this  we   shall  take 

expiation. 

But  who  shall  return  us  our  children  t 


The  Dog  Hervey 

(April  1 9 14) 

My  friend  Attley,  who  v/ould  give  away  his  own 
head  if  you  told  him  you  had  lost  yours,  was 
giving  away  a  six-months-old  litter  of  Bettina's 
pups,  and  half-a-dozen  women  were  in  raptures  at 
the  show  on  Mittleham  lawn. 

We  picked  by  lot.  Mrs.  Godfrey  drew  first 
choice  ;  her  married  daughter,  second.  I  was 
third,  but  waived  my  right  because  I  was  already 
owned  by  Malachi,  Bettina's  full  brother,  whom  I 
had  brought  over  in  the  car  to  visit  his  nephews 
and  nieces,  and  he  would  have  slain  them  all  if 
I  had  taken  home  one.  Milly,  Mrs.  Godfrey's 
younger  daughter,  pounced  on  my  rejection  with 
squeals  of  delight,  and  Attley  turned  to  a  dark, 
sallow-skinned,  slack-mouthed  girl,  who  had  come 
over  for  tennis,  and  invited  her  to  pick.  She  put 
on  a  pair  of  pince-nez  that  made  her  look  like  a 
camel,  knelt  clumsily,  for  she  was  long  from  the 
hip  to  the  knee,  breathed  hard,  and  considered  the 
last  couple. 

*  I  think  I'd  like  that  sandy-pied  one,'  she  said. 
131 


132     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Oh,  not  him,  Miss  Sichliffe  ! '  Attley  cried. 
'  He  was  overlaid  or  had  sunstroke  or  something. 
They  call  him  The  Looney  in  the  kennels.  Be- 
sides, he  squints.' 

'  I  think  that's  rather  fetching,'  she  answered. 
Neither  Malachi  nor  I  had  ever  seen  a  squinting 
dog  before. 

'That's chorea — St. Vitus's dance,'  Mrs. Godfrey 
put  in.     '  He  ought  to  have  been  drowned.' 

'  But  I  like  his  cast  of  countenance,'  the  girl 
persisted. 

'  He  doesn't  look  a  good  life,'  I  said,  '  but  per- 
haps he  can  be  patched  up.'  Miss  Sichliffe  turned 
crimson  ;  I  saw  Mrs.  Godfrey  exchange  a  glance 
with  her  married  daughter,  and  knew  I  had  said 
something  which  would  have  to  be  lived  down. 

'  Yes,'  Miss  Sichliffe  went  on,  her  voice  shaking, 
'  he  isn't  a  good  life,  but  perhaps  I  can — patch 
him  up.  Come  here,  sir.'  The  misshapen  beast 
lurched  toward  her,  squinting  down  his  own  nose 
till  he  fell  over  his  own  toes.  Then,  luckily, 
Bettina  ran  across  the  lawn  and  reminded  Malachi 
of  their  puppyhood.  All  that  family  are  as  queer 
as  Dick's  hatband,  and  fight  like  man  and  wife.  I 
had  to  separate  them,  and  Mrs.  Godfrey  helped 
me  till  they  retired  under  the  rhododendrons  and 
had  it  out  in  silence. 

1  D'you  know  what  that  girl's  father  was  ? ' 
Mrs.  Godfrey  asked. 

'  No,'  I  replied.  '  I  loathe  her  for  her  own  sake. 
She  breathes  through  her  mouth.' 

'  He  was  a  retired  doctor,'  she  explained.  '  He 
used  to  pick  up  stormy  young  men  in  the  repentant 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  133 

stage,  take  them  home,  and  patch  them  up  till  they 
were  sound  enough  to  be  insured.  Then  he  insured 
them  heavily,  and  let  them  out  into  the  world 
again — with  an  appetite.  Of  course,  no  one  knew 
him  while  he  was  alive,  but  he  left  pots  of  money 
to  his  daughter.' 

'  Strictly  legitimate — highly  respectable,'  I  said. 
'  But  what  a  life  for  the  daughter  ! ' 

*  Mustn't  it  have  been !  Now  d'you  realise  what 
you  said  just  now  ? ' 

*  Perfectly  ;  and  now  you've  made  me  quite 
happy,  shall  we  go  back  to  the  house  ? ' 

When  we  reached  it  they  were  all  inside,  sitting 
on  committee  of  names. 

*  What  shall  you  call  yours  ? '  I  heard  Milly  ask 
Miss  Sichliffe. 

1  Harvey,'  she  replied — '  Harvey's  Sauce,  you 
know.  He's  going  to  be  quite  saucy  when  I've ' 
— she  saw  Mrs.  Godfrey  and  me  coming  through 
the  French  window — '  when  he's  stronger.' 

Attley,  the  well-meaning  man,  to  make  me  feel 
at  ease,  asked  what  I  thought  of  the  name. 

*  Oh,  splendid,'  I  said  at  random.  '  H  with  an 
A,  A  with  an  R,  R  with  a ' 

'  But  that's  Little  Bingo,'  some  one  said,  and 
they  all  laughed. 

Miss  Sichliffe,  her  hands  joined  across  her  long 
knees,  drawled,  c  You  ought  always  to  verify  your 
quotations.' 

It  was  not  a  kindly  thrust,  but  something  in  the 
word  '  quotation  '  set  the  automatic  side  of  my 
brain  at  work  on  some  shadow  of  a  word  or  phrase 
that  kept  itself  out  of  memory's  reach  as  a  cat  sits 


134     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

just  beyond  a  dog's  jump.  When  I  was  going 
home,  Miss  Sichliffe  came  up  to  me  in  the  twilight, 
the  pup  on  a  leash,  swinging  her  big  shoes  at  the 
end  of  her  tennis-racket. 

'  'Sorry,'  she  said  in  her  thick  schoolboy-like 
voice.  '  I'm  sorry  for  what  I  said  to  you  about 
verifying  quotations.  I  didn't  know  you  well 
enough  and — anyhow,  I  oughtn't  to  have.' 

'  But  you  were  quite  right  about  Little  Bingo,' 
I  answered.  *  The  spelling  ought  to  have  re- 
minded me.' 

'  Yes,  of  course.  It's  the  spelling,'  she  said, 
and  slouched  off  with  the  pup  sliding  after  her. 
Once  again  my  brain  began  to  worry  after  some- 
thing that  would  have  meant  something  if  it  had 
been  properly  spelled.  I  confided  my  trouble  to 
Malachi  on  the  way  home,  but  Bettina  had  bitten 
him  in  four  places,  and  he  was  busy. 

Weeks  later,  Attley  came  over  to  see  me,  and 
before  his  car  stopped  Malachi  let  me  know  that 
Bettina  was  sitting  beside  the  chauffeur.  He 
greeted  her  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  as  she 
hopped  down  ;  and  I  greeted  Mrs.  Godfrey, 
Attley,  and  a  big  basket. 

'  You've  got  to  help  me,'  said  Attley  tiredly. 
We  took  the  basket  into  the  garden,  and  there 
staggered  out  the  angular  shadow  of  a  sandy- 
pied,  broken-haired  terrier,  with  one  imbecile  and 
one  delirious  ear,  and  two  most  hideous  squints. 
Bettina  and  Malachi,  already  at  grips  on  the  lawn, 
saw  him,  let  go,  and  fled  in  opposite  directions. 

1  Why  have  you  brought  that  fetid  hound 
here  ? '  I  demanded. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY 


*35 


'  Harvey  ?  For  you  to  take  care  of,'  said  Attley. 
*  He's  had  distemper,  but  i'm  going  abroad.' 

'  Take  him  with  you.  I  won't  have  him. 
He's  mentally  afflicted.' 

*  Look  here,'  Attley  almost  shouted,  '  do  I 
strike  you  as  a  fool  ?  ' 

'  Always,'  said  I. 

*  Well,  then,  if  you  say  so,  and  Ella  says  so, 
that  proves  I  ought  to  go  abroad.' 

'  Will's  wrong,  quite  wrong,'  Mrs.  Godfrey 
interrupted  ;  '  but  you  must  take  the  pup.' 

*  My  dear  boy,  my  dear  boy,  don't  you  ever 
give  anything  to  a  woman,'  Attley  snorted. 

Bit  by  bit  I  got  the  story  out  of  them  in  the 
quiet  garden  (never  a  sign  from  Bettina  and 
Malachi),  while  Harvey  stared  me  out  of  coun- 
tenance, first  with  one  cuttlefish  eye  and  then  with 
the  other. 

It  appeared  that,  a  month  after  Miss  Sichliffe 
took  him,  the  dog  Harvey  developed  distemper. 
Miss  Sichliffe  had  nursed  him  herself  for  some 
time  ;  then  she  carried  him  in  her  arms  the  two 
miles  to  Mittleham,  and  wept — actually  wept — 
at  Attley's  feet,  saying  that  Harvey  was  all  she 
had  or  expected  to  have  in  this  world,  and  Attley 
must  cure  him.  Attley,  being  by  wealth,  position, 
and  temperament  guardian  to  all  lame  dogs,  had 
put  everything  aside  for  this  unsavoury  job,  and, 
he  asserted,  Miss  Sichliffe  had  virtually  lived  with 
him  ever  since. 

1  She  went  home  at  night,  of  course,'  he  ex- 
ploded, '  but  the  rest  of  the  time  she  simply  in- 
fested the  premises.     Goodness   knows,   I'm   not 


136     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

particular,  but  it  was  a  scandal.  Even  the 
servants  !  .  .  .  Three  and  four  times  a  day,  and 
notes  in  between,  to  know  how  the  beast  was. 
Hang  it  all,  don't  laugh  !  And  wanting  to  send 
me  flowers  and  goldfish.  Do  I  look  as  if  I  wanted 
goldfish  ?  Can't  you  two  stop  for  a  minute  ? ' 
(Mrs.  Godfrey  and  I  were  clinging  to  each  other 
for  support.)  '  And  it  isn't  as  if  I  was — was  so 
alluring  a  personality,  is  it  ? ' 

Attley  commands  more  trust,  goodwill,  and 
affection  than  most  men,  for  he  is  that  rare  angel, 
an  absolutely  unselfish  bachelor,  content  to  be  run 
by  contending  syndicates  of  zealous  friends.  His 
situation  seemed  desperate,  and  I  told  him  so. 

*  Instant  flight  is  your  only  remedy,'  was  my 
verdict.  '  I'll  take  care  of  both  your  cars  while 
you're  away,  and  you  can  send  me  over  all  the 
greenhouse  fruit.' 

'  But  why  should  I  be  chased  out  of  my  house 
by  a  she-dromedary  ? '   he  wailed. 

1  Oh,  stop !  Stop  !  '  Mrs.  Godfrey  sobbed. 
'  You're  both  wrong.  I  admit  you're  right,  but 
I  know  you're  wrong.' 

*  Three  and  four  times  a  day,'  said  Attley,  with 
an  awful  countenance.  '  I'm  not  a  vain  man,  but 
— look  here,  Ella,  I'm  not  sensitive,  I  hope,  but 
if  you  persist  in  making  a  joke  of  it ' 

'  Oh,  be  quiet  ! '  she  almost  shrieked.  '  D'you 
imagine  for  one  instant  that  your  friends  would 
ever  let  Mittleham  pass  out  of  their  hands?  I 
quite  agree  it  is  unseemly  for  a  grown  girl  to 
come  to  Mittleham  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and 
night ' 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  137 

1 1  told  you  she  went  home  o'  nights,'  Attley 
growled. 

'  Specially  if  she  goes  home  o'  nights.  Oh, 
but  think  of  the  life  she  must  have  led,  Will  !  ' 

'  I'm  not  interfering  with  it  ;  only  she  must 
leave  me  alone.' 

1  She  may  want  to  patch  you  up  and  insure 
you,'  I  suggested. 

t  D'you  know  what  you  are  ?  '  Mrs.  Godfrey 
turned  on  me  with  the  smile  I  have  feared  for 
the  last  quarter  of  a  century.  '  You're  the  nice, 
kind,  wise,  doggy  friend.  You  don't  know  how 
wise  and  nice  you  are  supposed  to  be.  Will  has 
sent  Harvey  to  you  to  complete  the  poor  angel's 
convalescence.  You  know  all  about  dogs,  or  Will 
wouldn't  have  done  it.  He's  written  her  that. 
You're  too  far  off  for  her  to  make  daily  calls  on 
you.  P'r'aps  she'll  drop  in  two  or  three  times 
a  week,  and  write  on  other  days.  But  it  doesn't 
matter  what  she  does,  because  you  don't  own 
Mittleham,  don't  you  see  ? ' 

I  told  her  I  saw  most  clearly. 

'Oh,  you'll  get  over  that  in  a  few  days,'  Mrs. 
Godfrey  countered.  '  You're  the  sporting,  re- 
sponsible, doggy  friend  who ' 

'  He  used  to  look  at  me  like  that  at  first,'  said 
Attley,  with  a  visible  shudder,  '  but  he  gave  it 
up  after  a  bit.  It's  only  because  you're  new  to 
him.' 

'  But,  confound  you  !  he's  a  ghoul '  I  began. 

'  And  when  he  gets  quite  well,  you'll  send  him 
back  to  her  direct  with  your  love,  and  she'll  give 
you  some  pretty  four-tailed  goldfish,'  said    Mrs. 


138     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Godfrey,  rising.  '  That's  all  settled.  Car,  please. 
We're  going  to  Brighton  to  lunch  together.' 

They  ran  before  I  could  get  into  my  stride,  so 
I  told  the  dog  Harvey  what  I  thought  of  them 
and  his  mistress.  He  never  shifted  his  position, 
but  stared  at  me,  an  intense,  lopsided  stare,  eye 
after  eye.  Malachi  came  along  when  he  had  seen 
his  sister  off,  and  from  a  distance  counselled  me 
to  drown  the  brute  and  consort  with  gentlemen 
again.  But  the  dog  Harvey  never  even  cocked 
his  cockable  ear. 

And  so  it  continued  as  long  as  he  was  with  me. 
Where  I  sat,  he  sat  and  stared  ;  where  I  walked, 
he  walked  beside,  head  stiffly  slewed  over  one 
shoulder  in  single-barrelled  contemplation  of  me. 
He  never  gave  tongue,  never  closed  in  for  a  caress, 
seldom  let  me  stir  a  step  alone.  And,  to  my 
amazement,  Malachi,  who  suffered  no  stranger  to 
live  within  our  gates,  saw  this  gaunt,  growing, 
green-eyed  devil  wipe  him  out  of  my  service  and 
company  without  a  whimper.  Indeed,  one  would 
have  said  the  situation  interested  him,  for  he 
would  meet  us  returning  from  grim  walks  together, 
and  look  alternately  at  Harvey  and  at  me  with  the 
same  quivering  interest  that  he  showed  at  the 
mouth  of  a  rat-hole.  Outside  these  inspections, 
Malachi  withdrew  himself  as  only  a  dog  or  a 
woman  can. 

Miss  Sichliffe  came  over  after  a  few  days 
(luckily  I  was  out)  with  some  elaborate  story  of 
paying  calls  in  the  neighbourhood.  She  sent  me 
a  note  of  thanks  next  day.  I  was  reading  it  when 
Harvey  and  Malachi  entered  and  disposed  them- 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  139 

selves  as  usual,  Harvey  close  up  to  stare  at  me, 
Malachi  half  under  the  sofa,  watching  us  both.  Out 
of  curiosity  I  returned  Harvey's  stare,  then  pulled 
his  lopsided  head  on  to  my  knee,  and  took  his  eye 
for  several  minutes.  Now,  in  Malachi's  eye  I  can 
see  at  any  hour  all  that  there  is  of  the  normal 
decent  dog,  flecked  here  and  there  with  that 
strained  half-soul  which  man's  love  and  association 
have  added  to  his  nature.  But  with  Harvey  the 
eye  was  perplexed,  as  a  tortured  man's.  Only  by 
looking  far  into  its  deeps  could  one  make  out  the 
spirit  of  the  proper  animal,  beclouded  and  cowering 
beneath  some  unfair  burden. 

Leggatt,  my  chauffeur,  came  in  for  orders. 

1  How  d'you  think  Harvey's  coming  on  ? ' 
I  said,  as  I  rubbed  the  brute's  gulping  neck.  The 
vet  had  warned  me  of  the  possibilities  of  spinal 
trouble  following  distemper. 

'  He  ain't  my  fancy,'  was  the  reply.  '  But  / 
don't  question  his  comings  and  goings  so  long  as 
I  'aven't  to  sit  alone  in  a  room  with  him.' 

1  Why  ?     He's  as  meek  as  Moses,'  I  said. 

*  He  fair  gives  me  the  creeps.  P'r'aps  he'll  go 
out  in  fits.' 

But  Harvey,  as  I  wrote  his  mistress  from  time 
to  time,  throve,  and  when  he  grew  better,  would 
play  by  himself  grisly  games  of  spying,  walking 
up,  hailing,  and  chasing  another  dog.  From  these 
he  would  break  off  of  a  sudden  and  return  to  his 
normal  stiff  gait,  with  the  air  of  one  who  had 
forgotten  some  matter  of  life  and  death,  which 
could  be  reached  only  by  staring  at  me.  I  left 
him   one   evening  posturing   with   the  unseen  on 


i4o    A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  lawn,  and  went  inside  to  finish  some  letters  for 
the  post.  I  must  have  been  at  work  nearly  an 
hour,  for  I  was  going  to  turn  on  the  lights,  when 
I  feit  there  was  somebody  in  the  room  whom,  the 
short  hairs  at  the  back  of  my  neck  warned  me,  I 
was  not  in  the  least  anxious  to  face.  There  was  a 
mirror  on  the  wall.  As  I  lifted  my  eyes  to  it  I 
saw  the  dog  Harvey  reflected  near  the  shadow  by 
the  closed  door.  He  had  reared  himself  full- 
length  on  his  hind  legs,  his  head  a  little  one  side 
to  clear  a  sofa  between  us,  and  he  was  looking  at 
me.  The  face,  with  its  knitted  brows  and  drawn 
lips,  was  the  face  of  a  dog,  but  the  look,  for  the 
fraction  of  time  that  I  caught  it,  was  human — 
wholly  and  horribly  human.  When  the  blood 
in  my  body  went  forward  again  he  had  dropped 
to  the  floor,  and  was  merely  studying  me  in  his 
usual  one-eyed  fashion.  Next  day  I  returned 
him  to  Miss  SichlifTe.  I  would  not  have  kept 
him  another  day  for  the  wealth  of  Asia,  or  even 
Ella  Godfrey's  approval. 

Miss  SichlifFe's  house  I  discovered  to  be  a  mid- 
Victorian  mansion  of  peculiar  villainy  even  for  its 
period,  surrounded  by  gardens  of  conflicting 
colours,  all  dazzling  with  glass  and  fresh  paint  on 
ironwork.  Striped  blinds,  for  it  was  a  blazing 
autumn  morning,  covered  most  of  the  windows, 
and  a  voice  sang  to  the  piano  an  almost  forgotten 
song  of  Jean  Ingelow's — 

Methought  that  the  stars  were  blinking  bright, 
And  the  old  brig's  sails  unfurled — 

Down  came  the  loud  pedal,  and  the  unrestrained 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  141 

cry  swelled  out  across  a  bed  of  tritomas  consuming 
in  their  own  fires — 

When  I  said  I  will  sail  to  my  love  this  night 
On  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

1  have  no  music,  but  the  voice  drew.  I  waited  till 
the  end  : 

Oh,  maid  most  dear,  I  am  not  here 

I  have  no  place  apart — 
No  dwelling  more  on  sea  or  shore, 

But  only  in  thy  heart. 

It  seemed  to  me  a  poor  life  that  had  no  more  than 
that  to  do  at  eleven  o'clock  of  a  Tuesday  forenoon. 
Then  Miss  Sichliffe  suddenly  lumbered  through 
a  French  window  in  clumsy  haste,  her  brows 
contracted  against  the  light. 

*  Well  ? '  she  said,  delivering  the  word  like 
a  spear-thrust,  with  the  full  weight  of  a  body 
behind  it. 

'  I've  brought  Harvey  back  at  last,'  I  replied. 
'  Here  he  is.' 

But  it  was  at  me  she  looked,  not  at  the  dog  who 
had  cast  himself  at  her  feet — looked  as  though  she 
would  have  fished  my  soul  out  of  my  breast  on 
the  instant. 

'  Wha — what  did  you  think  of  him  ?  What 
did  you  make  of  him?  '  she  panted.  I  was  too 
taken  aback  for  the  moment  to  reply.  Her  voice 
broke  as  she  stooped  to  the  dog  at  her  knees.  '  O 
Harvey,  Harvey  !  You  utterly  worthless  old  devil ! ' 
she  cried,  and  the  dog  cringed  and  abased  himself 
in  servility  that  one  could  scarcely  bear  to  look 
upon.     I  made  to  go. 


1 42     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Oh,  but  please,  you  mustn't  ! '  She  tugged  at 
the  car's  side.  *  Wouldn't  you  like  some  flowers 
or  some  orchids  ?  We've  really  splendid  orchids, 
and  ' — she  clasped  her  hands — '  there  are  Japanese 
goldfish — real  Japanese  goldfish,  with  four  tails. 
If  you  don't  care  for  'em,  perhaps  your  friends 
or  somebody — oh,  please  ! ' 

Harvey  had  recovered  himself,  and  I  realised 
that  this  woman  beyond  the  decencies  was  fawning 
on  me  as  the  dog  had  fawned  on  her. 

'  Certainly,'  I  said,  ashamed  to  meet  her  eye. 
'  I'm  lunching  at  Mittleham,  but ' 

'  There's  plenty  of  time,'  she  entreated.  '  What 
do  you  think  of  Harvey  ?  ' 

'  He's  a  queer  beast,'  I  said,  getting  out.  *  He 
does  nothing  but  stare  at  me.' 

'  Does  he  stare  at  you  all  the  time  he's  with 
you  ? ' 

'  Always.     He's  doing  it  now.     Look  !  ' 

We  had  halted.  Harvey  had  sat  down,  and 
was  staring  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  weaving 
motion  of  the  head. 

'  He'll  do  that  all  day,'  I  said.  ■  What  is  it, 
Harvey  ?  ' 

*  Yes,  what  is  it,  Harvey  ? '  she  echoed.  The 
dog's  throat  twitched,  his  body  stifFened  and  shook 
as  though  he  were  going  to  have  a  fit.  Then  he 
came  back  with  a  visible  wrench  to  his  unwinking 
watch. 

'  'Always  so  ? '  she  whispered. 

*  Always,'  I  replied,  and  told  her  something  of 
his  life  with  me.  She  nodded  once  or  twice,  and 
in  the  end  led  me  into  the  house. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  143 

There  were  imaging  pitch-pine  doors  of  Gothic 
design  in  it  ;  there  were  inlaid  marble  mantel- 
pieces and  cut-steel  fenders  ;  there  were  stupendous 
wall-papers,  and  octagonal,  medallioned  Wedge- 
wood  what-nots,  and  black-and-gilt  Austrian 
images  holding  candelabra,  with  every  other  re- 
finement that  Art  had  achieved  or  wealth  had  bought 
between  1851  and  1878.  And  everything  reeked 
of  varnish. 

'  Now  ! '  she  opened  a  baize  door,  and  pointed 
down  a  long  corridor  flanked  with  more  Gothic 
doors.  '  This  was  where  we  used  to — to  patch  'em 
up.  You've  heard  of  us.  Mrs.  Godfrey  told  you 
in  the  garden  the  day  I  got  Harvey  given  me.  I ' 
— she  drew  in  her  breath — '  I  live  here  by  myself, 
and  I  have  a  very  large  income.  Come  back, 
Harvey.' 

He  had  tiptoed  down  the  corridor,  as  rigid  as 
ever,  and  was  sitting  outside  one  of  the  shut  doors. 
'  Look  here  !  '  she  said,  and  planted  herself  squarely 
in  front  of  me.  '  I  tell  you  this  because  you — 
you've  patched  up  Harvey,  too.  Now,  I  want  you 
to  remember  that  my  name  is  Moira.  Mother 
calls  me  Marjorie  because  it's  more  refined  ;  but 
my  real  name  is  Moira,  and  I  am  in  my  thirty- 
fourth  year.' 

'  Very  good,'  I  said.     '  I'll  remember  all  that.* 

1  Thank  you.'  Then  with  a  sudden  swoop  into 
the  humility  of  an  abashed  boy — '  'Sorry  if  I 
haven't  said  the  proper  things.  You  see — there's 
Harvey  looking  at  us  again.  Oh,  I  want  to  say — 
if  ever  you  want  anything  in  the  way  of  orchids  or 
goldfish  or — or  anything  else  that  would  be  useful 


i44     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

to  you,  you've  only  to  come  to  me  for  it.  Under 
the  will  I'm  perfectly  independent,  and  we're  a 
long-lived  family,  worse  luck  !  '  She  looked  at 
me,  and  her  face  worked  like  glass  behind  driven 
flame.  '  I  may  reasonably  expect  to  live  another 
fifty  years,'  she  said. 

<  Thank  you,  Miss  Sichliffe,'  I  replied.  <  If  I 
want  anything,  you  may  be  sure  I'll  come  to  you 
for  it.'  She  nodded.  '  Now  I  must  get  over  to 
Mittleham,'  I  said. 

'  Mr.  Attley  will  ask  you  all  about  this.'  For 
the  first  time  she  laughed  aloud.  '  I'm  afraid  I 
frightened  him  nearly  out  of  the  county.  I 
didn't  think,  of  course.  But  I  dare  say  he  knows 
by  this  time  he  was  wrong.  Say  good  -  bye  to 
Harvey.' 

'  Good-bye,  old  man,'  I  said.  '  Give  me  a 
farewell  stare,  so  we  shall  know  each  other  when 
we  meet  again.' 

The  dog  looked  up,  then  moved  slowly  toward 
me,  and  stood,  head  bowed  to  the  floor,  shaking 
in  every  muscle  as  I  patted  him  ;  and  when  I 
turned,  I  saw  him  crawl  back  to  her  feet. 

That  was  not  a  good  preparation  for  the 
rampant  boy-and-girl-dominated  lunch  at  Mittle- 
ham, which,  as  usual,  I  found  in  possession  of 
everybody  except  the  owner. 

'  But  what  did  the  dromedary  say  when  you 
brought  her  beast  back  ? '  Attley  demanded. 

*  The  usual  polite  things,'  I  replied.  '  I'm 
posing  as  the  nice  doggy  friend  nowadays.' 

'  I  don't  envy  you.  She's  never  darkened  my 
doors,    thank    goodness,   since   I    left  Karvey   at 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  145 

your  place.  I  suppose  she'll  run  about  the  county 
now  swearing  you  cured  him.  That's  a  woman's 
idea  of  gratitude.'  Attley  seemed  rather  hurt, 
and  Mrs.  Godfrey  laughed. 

1  That  proves  you  were  right  about  Miss  Sich- 
liffe,  Ella,'  I  said.  '  She  had  no  designs  on  any- 
body.' 

'  I'm  always  right  in  these  matters.  But  didn't 
she  even  offer  you  a  goldfish  ? ' 

*  Not  a  thing,'  said  I.  '  You  know  what  an 
old  maid's  like  where  her  precious  dog's  concerned.' 
And  though  I  have  tried  vainly  to  lie  to  Ella 
Godfrey  for  many  years,  I  believe  that  in  this 
case  I  succeeded. 

When  I  turned  into  our  drive  that  evening, 
Leggatt  observed  half  aloud  : 

£  I'm  glad  Zvengali's  back  where  he  belongs. 
It's  time  our  Mike  had  a  look  in.' 

Sure  enough,  there  was  Malachi  back  again  in 
spirit  as  well  as  flesh,  but  still  with  that  odd  air 
of  expectation  he  had  picked  up  from  Harvey. 

It  was  in  January  that  Attley  wrote  me  that 
Mrs.  Godfrey,  wintering  in  Madeira  with  Milly, 
her  unmarried  daughter,  had  been  attacked  with 
something  like  enteric  ;  that  the  hotel,  anxious 
for  its  good  name,  had  thrust  them  both  out  into 
a  cottage  annexe  ;  that  he  was  off  with  a  nurse, 
and  that  I  was  not  to  leave  England  till  I  heard 
from  him  again.  In  a  week  he  wired  that  Milly 
was  down  as  well,  and  that  I  must  bring  out  two 
more  nurses,  with  suitable  delicacies. 

Within   seventeen    hours   I   had  got   them   all 

L 


146      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

aboard  the  Cape  boat,  and  had  seen  the  women 
safely  collapsed  into  sea-sickness.  The  next  few 
weeks  were  for  me,  as  for  the  invalids,  a  low 
delirium,  clouded  with  fantastic  memories  of 
Portuguese  officials  trying  to  tax  calves' -foot 
jelly  ;  voluble  doctors  insisting  that  true  typhoid 
was  unknown  in  the  island  ;  nurses  who  had  to 
be  exercised,  taken  out  of  themselves,  and  returned 
on  the  tick  of  change  of  guard  ;  night  slides 
down  glassy,  cobbled  streets,  smelling  of  sewage 
and  flowers,  between  walls  whose  every  stone  and 
patch  Attley  and  I  knew  ;  vigils  in  stucco 
verandahs,  watching  the  curve  and  descent  of 
great  stars  or  drawing  auguries  from  the  break  of 
dawn  ;  insane  interludes  of  gambling  at  the  local 
Casino,  where  we  won  heaps  of  unconsoling  silver  ; 
blasts  of  steamers  arriving  and  departing  in  the 
roads  ;  help  offered  by  total  strangers,  grabbed  at 
or  thrust  aside  ;  the  long  nightmare  crumbling 
back  into  sanity  one  forenoon  under  a  vine-covered 
trellis,  where  Attley  sat  hugging  a  nurse,  while 
the  others  danced  a  noiseless,  neat-footed  break- 
down never  learned  at  the  Middlesex  Hospital. 
At  last,  as  the  tension  came  out  all  over  us  in 
aches  and  tingles  that  we  put  down  to  the  country 
wine,  a  vision  of  Mrs.  Godfrey,  her  grey  hair 
turned  to  spun-glass,  but  her  eyes  triumphant 
over  the  shadow  of  retreating  death  beneath  them, 
with  Milly,  enormously  grown,  and  clutching 
life  back  to  her  young  breast,  both  stretched  out 
on  cane  chairs,  clamouring  for  food. 

In  this  ungirt  hour  there  imported  himself  into 
our  life  a  youngish-looking  middle-aged  man  of 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  147 

the  name  of  Shend,  with  a  blurred  face  and 
deprecating  eyes.  He  said  he  had  gambled  with 
me  at  the  Casino,  which  was  no  recommendation, 
and  I  remember  that  he  twice  gave  me  a  basket 
of  champagne  and  liqueur  brandy  for  the  invalids, 
which  a  sailor  in  a  red-tasselled  cap  carried  up  to 
the  cottage  for  me  at  3  a.m.  He  turned  out  to 
be  the  son  of  some  merchant  prince  in  the  oil  and 
colour  line,  and  the  owner  of  a  four-hundred-ton 
steam  yacht,  into  which,  at  his  gentle  insistence, 
we  later  shifted  our  camp,  staff,  and  equipage, 
Milly  weeping  with  delight  to  escape  from  the 
horrible  cottage.  There  we  lay  off  Funchal  for 
weeks,  while  Shend  did  miracles  of  luxury  and 
attendance  through  deputies,  and  never  once  asked 
how  his  guests  were  enjoying  themselves.  Indeed, 
for  several  days  at  a  time  we  would  see  nothing 
of  him.  He  was,  he  said,  subject  to  malaria. 
Giving  as  they  do  with  both  hands,  I  knew  that 
Attley  and  Mrs.  Godfrey  could  take  nobly  ;  but 
I  never  met  a  man  who  so  nobly  gave  and  so 
nobly  received  thanks  as  Shend  did. 

*  Tell  us  why  you  have  been  so  unbelievably 
kind  to  us  gipsies,'  Mrs.  Godfrey  said  to  him  one 
day  on  deck. 

He  looked  up  from  a  diagram  of  some 
Thames-mouth  shoals  which  he  was  explaining  to 
me,  and  answered  with  his  gentle  smile  : 

'  I  will.  It's  because  it  makes  me  happy — it 
makes  me  more  than  happy — to  be  with  you.  It 
makes  me  comfortable.  You  know  how  selfish 
men  are  ?  If  a  man  feels  comfortable  all  over 
with  certain  people,  he'll  bore  them  to  death,  just 


148     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

like  a  dog.  You  always  make  me  feel  as  if 
pleasant  things  were  going  to  happen  to  me.' 

1  Haven't  any  ever  happened  before  ? '  Milly 
asked. 

'  This  is  the  most  pleasant  thing  that  has 
happened  to  me  in  ever  so  many  years,'  he  replied. 
'  I  feel  like  the  man  in  the  Bible,  "  It's  good  for 
me  to  be  here."  Generally,  I  don't  feel  that  it's 
good  for  me  to  be  anywhere  in  particular.'  Then, 
as  one  begging  a  favour.  '  You'll  let  me  come 
home  with  you — in  the  same  boat,  I  mean  ?  I'd 
take  you  back  in  this  thing  of  mine,  and  that 
would  save  you  packing  your  trunks,  but  she's 
too  lively  for  spring  work  across  the  Bay.' 

We  booked  our  berths,  and  when  the  time 
came,  he  wafted  us  and  ours  aboard  the  South- 
ampton mail  -  boat  with  the  pomp  of  pleni- 
potentiaries and  the  precision  of  the  Navy.  Then 
he  dismissed  his  yacht,  and  became  an  inconspicuous 
passenger  in  a  cabin  opposite  to  mine,  on  the  port 
side. 

We  ran  at  once  into  early  British  spring 
weather,  followed  by  sou'west  gales.  Mrs. 
Godfrey,  Milly,  and  the  nurses  disappeared. 
Attley  stood  it  out,  visibly  yellowing,  till  the  next 
meal,  and  followed  suit,  and  Shend  and  I  had  the 
little  table  all  to  ourselves.  I  found  him  even 
more  attractive  when  the  women  were  away. 
The  natural  sweetness  of  the  man,  his  voice,  and 
bearing  all  fascinated  me,  and  his  knowledge  of 
practical  seamanship  (he  held  an  extra  master's 
certificate)  was  a  real  joy.  We  sat  long  in  the 
empty  saloon  and    longer   in  the  smoking-room, 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  149 

making  dashes  downstairs  over  slippery  decks  at 
the  eleventh  hour. 

It  was  on  Friday  night,  just  as  I  was  going  to 
bed,  that  he  came  into  my  cabin,  after  cleaning 
his  teeth,  which  he  did  half  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

'  I  say,'  he  began  hurriedly,  '  do  you  mind  if  I 
come  in  here  for  a  little  ?  I'm  a  bit  edgy.'  I 
must  have  shown  surprise.  '  I'm  ever  so  much 
better  about  liquor  than  I  used  to  be,  but — it's 
the  whisky  in  the  suitcase  that  throws  me.  For 
God's  sake,  old  man,  don't  go  back  on  me 
to-night  !     Look  at  my  hands  !  ' 

They  were  fairly  jumping  at  the  wrists.  He 
sat  down  on  a  trunk  that  had  slid  out  with  the 
roll.  We  had  reduced  speed,  and  were  surging 
in  confused  seas  that  pounded  on  the  black  port- 
glasses.  The  night  promised  to  be  a  pleasant 
one  ! 

1  You  understand,  of  course,  don't  you  ? '  he 
chattered. 

'  Oh  yes,'  I  said  cheerily  ;   '  but  how  about ' 

'  No,  no  ;  on  no  account  the  doctor.  'Tell  a 
doctor,  tell  the  whole  ship.  Besides,  I've  only 
got  a  touch  of  'em.  You'd  never  have  guessed 
it,  would  you?  The  tooth-wash  does  the  trick. 
I'll  give  you  the  prescription.' 

'  I'll  send  a  note  to  the  doctor  for  a  prescription, 
shall  I  ? '   I  suggested. 

'  Right  !  I  put  myself  unreservedly  in  your 
hands.  'Fact  is,  I  always  did.  I  said  to  myself — 
'sure  I  don't  bore  you  ? — the  minute  I  saw  you,  I 
said,  "  Thou  art  the  man."  He  repeated  the 
phrase  as  he  picked  at  his  knees.     '  All  the  same, 


i5o     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

you  can  take  it  from  me  that  the  ewe -lamb 
business  is  a  rotten  bad  one.  I  don't  care  how 
unfaithful  the  shepherd  may  be.  Drunk  or 
sober,  'tisn't  cricket.' 

A  surge  of  the  trunk  threw  him  across  the 
cabin  as  the  steward  answered  my  bell.  I  wrote 
my  requisition  to  the  doctor  while  Shend  was 
struggling  to  his  feet. 

'  What's  wrong  ? '  he  began.  '  Oh,  I  know. 
We're  slowing  for  soundings  off  Ushant.  It's 
about  time,  too.  You'd  better  ship  the  dead- 
lights when  you  come  back,  Matchem.  It'll  save 
you  waking  us  later.  This  sea's  going  to  get  up 
when  the  tide  turns.  That'll  show  you,'  he  said 
as  the  man  left,  '  that  I  am  to  be  trusted.  You — 
you'll  stop  me  if  I  say  anything  I  shouldn't, 
won't  you  ? ' 

'  Talk  away,'  I  replied,  '  if  it  makes  you  feel 
better.' 

'  That's  it  ;  you've  hit  it  exactly.  You  always 
make  me  feel  better.  I  can  rely  on  you.  It's 
awkward  soundings  but  you'll  see  me  through  it. 
We'll  defeat  him  yet.  ...  I  may  be  an  utterly 
worthless  devil,  but  I'm  not  a  brawler.  ...  I  told 
him  so  at  breakfast.  I  said,  "  Doctor,  I  detest 
brawling,  but  if  ever  you  allow  that  girl  to  be 
insulted  again  as  Clements  insulted  her,  I  will 
break  your  neck  with  my  own  hands."  You 
think  I  was  right  ?' 

'  Absolutely,'  I  agreed. 

'  Then  we  needn't  discuss  the  matter  any 
further.  That  man  was  a  murderer  in  intention 
— outside  the  law,  you  understand,  as  it  was  then. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  151 

They've  changed  it  since — but  he  never  deceived 
me.  I  told  him  so.  I  said  to  him  at  the  time, 
"  I  don't  know  what  price  you're  going  to  put  on 
my  head,  but  if  ever  you  allow  Clements  to  insult 
her  again,  you'll  never  live  to  claim  it." 

'And  what  did  he  do?  "  I  asked,  to  carry  on 
the  conversation,  for  Matchem  entered  with  the 
bromide. 

*  Oh,  crumpled  up  at  once.  'Lead  still  going, 
Matchem  ?  ' 

'  I  'aven't  'eard,'  said  that  faithful  servant  of 
the  Union-Castle  Company. 

*  Quite  right.  Never  alarm  the  passengers. 
Ship  the  dead-light,  will  you  ?  '  Matchem 
shipped  it,  for  we  were  rolling  very  heavily. 
There  were  tramplings  and  gull-like  cries  from  on 
deck.     Shend  looked  at  me  with  a  mariner's  eye. 

'That's  nothing,'  he  said  protectingly. 

'  Oh,  it's  all  right  for  you,'  I  said,  jumping  at 
the  idea.  '  I  haven't  an  extra  master's  certificate. 
I'm  only  a  passenger.      I  confess  it  funks  me.' 

Instantly  his  whole  bearing  changed  to  answer 
the  appeal. 

'  My  dear  fellow,  it's  as  simple  as  houses. 
We're  hunting  for  sixty-five  fathom  water.  Any- 
thing short  of  sixty,  with  a  sou' west  wind  means — 
but  I'll  get  my  Channel  Pilot  out  of  my  cabin  and 
give  you  the  general  idea.  I'm  only  too  grateful 
to  do  anything  to  put  your  mind  at  ease.' 

And  so,  perhaps,  for  another  hour — he  declined 
the  drink — Channel  Pilot  in  hand,  he  navigated  us 
round  Ushant,  and  at  my  request  up-channel  to 
Southampton,  light  by  light,  with  explanations  and 


152     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

reminiscences.  I  professed  myself  soothed  at  last, 
and  suggested  bed. 

1  In  a  second,'  said  he.  *  Now,  you  wouldn't 
think,  would  you  ' — he  glanced  off  the  book  toward 
my  wildly  swaying  dressing-gown  on  the  door — 
'  that  I've  been  seeing  things  for  the  last  half- 
hour  ?  'Fact  is,  I'm  just  on  the  edge  of  'em, 
skating  on  thin  ice  round  the  corner — nor'east 
as  near  as  nothing — where  that  dog's  looking 
at  me.' 

'  What's  the  dog  like  ? '  I  asked. 

1  Ah,  that  is  comforting  of  you !  Most  men 
walk  through  'em  to  show  me  they  aren't  real. 
As  if  I  didn't  know  !  But  you  re  different.  Any- 
body could  see  that  with  half  an  eye.'  He  stiffened 
and  pointed.     '  Damn  it  all  !     The  dog  sees  it  too 

with  half  an Why,  he  knows  you  !     Knows 

you  perfectly.     D'you  know  him  ? ' 

'  How  can  I  tell  if  he  isn't  real  ?  '  I  insisted. 

'  But  you  can  !  Toutq  all  right.  I  saw  that 
from  the  first.  Don't  go  back  on  me  now  or  I 
shall  go  to  pieces  like  the  Drummond  Castle.  I  beg 
your  pardon,  old  man  ;  but,  you  see,  you  do  know 
the  dog.  I'll  prove  it.  What's  that  dog  doing  ? 
Come  on !  Tou  know.'  A  tremor  shook  him, 
and  he  put  his  hand  on  my  knee,  and  whispered 
with  great  meaning  :  '  I'll  letter  or  halve  it  with 
you.     There  !     You  begin.' 

'  S,'  said  I  to  humour  him,  for  a  dog  would 
most  likely  be  standing  or  sitting,  or  may  be 
scratching  or  sniffing  or  staring. 

'  Q,'  he  went  on,  and  I  could  feel  the  heat  of 
his  shaking  hand. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  153 

'  U,'  said  I.  There  was  no  other  letter  possible  ; 
but  I  was  shaking  too. 

<n; 

'  T-i-n-g,'  he  ran  out.  '  There  !  That  proves 
it.  I  knew  you  knew  him.  You  don't  know 
what  a  relief  that  is.  Between  ourselves,  old  man, 
he — he's  been  turning  up  lately  a — a  damn  sight 
more  often  than  I  cared  for.  And  a  squinting 
dog — a  dog  that  squints  !  I  mean  that's  a  bit  too 
much.  Eh  ?  What  ? '  He  gulped  and  half  rose, 
and  I  thought  that  the  full  tide  of  delirium  would 
be  on  him  in  another  sentence. 

'  Not  a  bit  of  it,'  I  said  as  a  last  chance,  with 
my  hand  over  the  bellpush.  'Why,  you've  just 
proved  that  I  know  him  ;  so  there  are  two  of  us 
in  the  game,  anyhow.' 

'  By  Jove  !  that  is  an  idea  !  Of  course  there 
are.  I  knew  you'd  see  me  through.  We'll  defeat 
them  yet.  Hi,  pup  !  .  .  .  He's  gone.  Absolutely 
disappeared  !  '  He  sighed  with  relief,  and  I  caught 
the  lucky  moment. 

'  Good  business  !  I  expect  he  only  came  to 
have  a  look  at  me,'  I  said.  '  Now,  get  this  drink 
down  and  turn  in  to  the  lower  bunk.' 

He  obeyed,  protesting  that  he  could  not  incon- 
venience me,  and  in  the  midst  of  apologies  sank 
into  a  dead  sleep.  I  expected  a  wakeful  night, 
having  a  certain  amount  to  think  over  ;  but  no 
sooner  had  I  scrambled  into  the  top-bunk  than 
sleep  came  on  me  like  a  wave  from  the  other  side 
of  the  world. 

In   the    morning   there   were  apologies,   which 


154     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

we  got  over  at  breakfast  before  our  party  were 
about. 

1 1  suppose — after  this — well,  I  don't  blame  you. 
I'm  rather  a  lonely  chap,  though.'  His  eyes  lifted 
dog-like  across  the  table. 

'Shend,'  I  replied,  'I'm  not  running  a  Sunday 
school.  You're  coming  home  with  me  in  my  car 
as  soon  as  we  land.' 

'That  is  kind  of  you — kinder  than  you  think.' 

'That's  because  you're  a  little  jumpy  still. 
Now,  I  don't  want  to  mix  up  in  your  private 
affairs ' 

'  But  I'd  like  you  to,'  he  interrupted. 

'  Then,  would  you  mind  telling  me  the  Christian 
name  of  a  girl  who  was  insulted  by  a  man  called 
Clements  ?  ' 

'  Moira,'  he  whispered  ;  and  just  then  Mrs. 
Godfrey  and  Milly  came  to  table  with  their  shore- 
going  hats  on. 

We  did  not  tie  up  till  noon,  but  the  faithful 
Leggatt  had  intrigued  his  way  down  to  the  dock- 
edge,  and  beside  him  sat  Malachi,  wearing  his 
collar  of  gold,  or  Leggatt  makes  it  look  so,  as 
eloquent  as  Demosthenes.  Shend  flinched  a  little 
when  he  saw  him.  We  packed  Mrs.  Godfrey  and 
Milly  into  Attley's  car — they  were  going  with  him 
to  Mittleham,  of  course — and  drew  clear  across 
the  railway  lines  to  find  England  all  lit  and  per- 
fumed for  spring.     Shend  sighed  with  happiness. 

'  D'you  know,'  he  said,  *  if — if  you'd  chucked 
me — I  should  have  gone  down  to  my  cabin  after 
breakfast  and  cut  my  throat.  And  now — it's  like 
a  dream — a  good  dream,  you  know.' 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  155 

We  lunched  with  the  other  three  at  Romsey. 
Then  I  sat  in  front  for  a  little  while  to  talk  to  my 
Malachi.  When  I  looked  back,  Shend  was  solidly 
asleep,  and  stayed  so  for  the  next  two  hours,  while 
Leggatt  chased  Attley's  fat  Daimler  along  the 
green-speckled  hedges.  He  woke  up  when  we 
said  good-bye  at  Mittleham,  with  promises  to  meet 
again  very  soon. 

'  And  I  hope,'  said  Mrs.  Godfrey,  *  that  every- 
thing pleasant  will  happen  to  you.' 

'  Heaps  and  heaps — all  at  once,'  cried  long, 
weak  Milly,  waving  her  wet  handkerchief. 

'I've  just  got  to  look  in  at  a  house  near  here 
for  a  minute  to  inquire  about  a  dog,'  I  said,  '  and 
then  we  will  go  home.' 

'  I  used  to  know  this  part  of  the  world,'  he 
replied,  and  said  no  more  till  Leggatt  shot  past 
the  lodge  at  the  Sichliffes's  gate.  Then  I  heard 
him  gasp. 

Miss  Sichliffe,  in  a  green  waterproof,  an  orange 
jersey,  and  a  pinkish  leather  hat,  was  working  on 
a  bulb-border.  She  straightened  herself  as  the  car 
stopped,  and  breathed  hard.  Shend  got  out  and 
walked  towards  her.  They  shook  hands,  turned 
round  together,  and  went  into  the  house.  Then 
the  dog  Harvey  pranced  out  corkily  from  under 
the  lee  of  a  bench.  Malachi,  with  one  joyous 
swoop,  fell  on  him  as  an  enemy  and  an  equal. 
Harvey,  for  his  part,  freed  from  all  burden  what- 
soever except  the  obvious  duty  of  a  man-dog  on 
his  own  ground,  met  Malachi  without  reserve  or 
remorse,  and  with  six  months'  additional  growth 
to  come  and  go  on. 


156     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Don't  check  'em !  '  cried  Leggatt,  dancing 
round  the  flurry.  '  They've  both  been  saving  up 
for  each  other  all  this  time.  It'll  do  'em  worlds 
of  good.' 

'  Leggatt,'  I  said,  '  will  you  take  Mr.  Shend's 
bag  and  suitcase  up  to  the  house  and  put  them 
down  just  inside  the  door  ?     Then  we  will  go  on.' 

So  I  enjoyed  the  finish  alone.  It  was  a  dead 
heat,  and  they  licked  each  other's  jaws  in  amity 
till  Harvey,  one  imploring  eye  on  me,  leaped  into 
the  front  seat,  and  Malachi  backed  his  appeal.  It 
was  theft,  but  I  took  him,  and  we  talked  all  the 
way  home  of  r-rats  and  r-rabbits  and  bones  and 
baths  and  the  other  basic  facts  of  life.  That 
evening  after  dinner  they  slept  before  the  fire, 
with  their  warm  chins  across  the  hollows  of  my 
ankles — to  each  chin  an  ankle — till  I  kicked  them 
upstairs  to  bed. 

I  was  not  at  Mittleham  when  she  came  over  to 
announce  her  engagement,  but  I  heard  of  it  when 
Mrs.  Godfrey  and  Attley  came,  forty  miles  an 
hour,  over  to  me,  and  Mrs.  Godfrey  called  me 
names  of  the  worst  for  suppression  of  informa- 
tion. 

'  As  long  as  it  wasn't  me,  I  don't  care,'  said 
Attley. 

'  I  believe  you  knew  it  all  along,'  Mrs.  Godfrey 
repeated.  '  Else  what  made  you  drive  that  man 
literally  into  her  arms  ? ' 

'  To  ask  after  the  dog  Harvey,'  I  replied. 

*  Then,  what's  the  beast  doing  here  ? '  Attley 
demanded,  for  Malachi  and  the  dog  Harvey  were 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  157 

deep  in  a  council  of  the  family  with  Bettina,  who 
was  being  out-argued. 

'  Oh,  Harvey  seemed  to  think  himself  de  trop 
where  he  was/  I  said.  *  And  she  hasn't  sent  after 
him.  You'd  better  save  Bettina  before  they  kill 
her.' 

'  There's  been  enough  lying  about  that  dog,' 
said  Mrs.  Godfrey  to  me.  '  If  he  wasn't  born  in 
lies,  he  was  baptized  in  'em.  D'you  know  why 
she  called  him  Harvey  ?  It  only  occurred  to  me 
in  those  dreadful  days  when  I  was  ill,  and  one 
can't  keep  from  thinking,  and  thinks  everything. 
D'you  know  your  Boswell  ?  What  did  Johnson 
say  about  Hervey — with  an  e  ? ' 

1  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it  ? '  I  cried  incautiously. 
4  That  was  why  I  ought  to  have  verified  my 
quotations.  The  spelling  defeated  me.  Wait  a 
moment,  and  it  will  come  back.  Johnson  said  : 
"  He  was  a  vicious  man,"  '  I  began. 

' "  But  very  kind  to  me,"  Mrs.  Godfrey 
prompted.  Then,  both  together,  ' "  If  you  call 
a  dog  Hervey,  I  shall  love  him."  ' 

'  So  you  were  mixed  up  in  it.  At  any  rate, 
you  had  your  suspicions  from  the  first  ?  Tell  me,' 
she  said. 

1  Ella,'  I  said,  '  I  don't  know  anything  rational 
or  reasonable  about  any  of  it.  It  was  all — all 
woman-work,  and  it  scared  me  horribly.' 

'  Why  ? '  she  asked. 

That  was  six  years  ago.  I  have  written  this 
tale  to  let  her  know — wherever  she  may  be. 


THE   COMFORTERS 

Until  thy  feet  have  trod  the  Road 

Advise  not  wayside  folk, 
Nor  till  thy  back  has  borne  the  Load 

Break  in  upon  the  Broke. 

Chase  not  with  undesired  largesse 

Of  sympathy  the  heart 
Which,  knowing  her  own  bitterness, 

Presumes  to  dwell  apart. 

Employ  not  that  glad  hand  to  raise 
The  God-forgotten  head 

To  Heaven,  and  all  the  neighbours'  gaze- 
Cover  thy  mouth  instead. 

The  quivering  chin,  the  bitten  lip, 
The  cold  and  sweating  brow, 

Later  may  yearn  for  fellowship — 
Not  now,  you  ass,  not  now  ! 

Time,  not  thy  ne'er  so  timely  speech, 

Life,  not  thy  views  thereon, 
Shall  furnish  or  deny  to  each 

His  consolation. 
158 


THE  COMFORTERS  159 

Or,  if  impelled  to  interfere, 

Exhort,  uplift,  advise, 
Lend  not  a  base,  betraying  ear 

To  all  the  victim's  cries. 

Only  the  Lord  can  understand 
When  those  first  pangs  begin, 

How  much  is  reflex  action  and 
How  much  is  really  sin. 

E'en  from  good  words  thyself  refrain, 

And  tremblingly  admit 
There  is  no  anodyne  for  pain 

Except  the  shock  of  it. 

So,  when  thine  own  dark  hour  shall  fall. 

Unchallenged  canst  thou  say  : 
1 1  never  worried  you  at  all, 

For  God's  sake  go  away  !  ' 


The  Village  that  Voted  the  Earth 
was  Flat 

(1913) 

Our  drive  till  then  had  been  quite  a  success. 
The  other  men  in  the  car  were  my  friend 
Woodhouse,  young  Ollyett,  a  distant  connection 
of  his,  and  Pallant,  the  M.P.  Woodhouse's 
business  was  the  treatment  and  cure  of  sick 
journals.  He  knew  by  instinct  the  precise 
moment  in  a  newspaper's  life  when  the  impetus 
of  past  good  management  is  exhausted  and  it 
fetches  up  on  the  dead-centre  between  slow  and 
expensive  collapse  and  the  new  start  which  can  be 
given  by  gold  injections — and  genius.  He  was 
wisely  ignorant  of  journalism  ;  but  when  he 
stooped  on  a  carcase  there  was  sure  to  be  meat. 
He  had  that  week  added  a  half-dead,  halfpenny 
evening  paper  to  his  collection,  which  consisted 
of  a  prosperous  London  daily,  one  provincial 
ditto,  and  a  limp-bodied  weekly  of  commercial 
leanings.  He  had  also,  that  very  hour,  planted 
me  with  a  large  block  of  the  evening  paper's 
common  shares,  and  was  explaining  the  whole  art 

161  M 


1 62     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

of  editorship  to  Ollyett,  a  young  man  three  years 
from  Oxford,  with  coir-matting-coloured  hair  and 
a  face  harshly  modelled  by  harsh  experiences,  who, 
I  understood,  was  assisting  in  the  new  venture. 
Pallant,  the  long,  wrinkled  M.P.,  whose  voice  is 
more  like  a  crane's  than  a  peacock's,  took  no 
shares,  but  gave  us  all  advice. 

'  You'll  find  it  rather  a  knacker's  yard,'  Wood- 
house  was  saying.  'Yes,  I  know  they  call  me  The 
Knacker  ;  but  it  will  pay  inside  a  year.  All  my 
papers  do.  I've  only  one  motto  :  Back  your  luck 
and  back  your  staff.     It'll  come  out  all  right.' 

Then  the  car  stopped,  and  a  policeman  asked 
our  names  and  addresses  for  exceeding  the  speed- 
limit.  We  pointed  out  that  the  road  ran  absolutely 
straight  for  half  a  mile  ahead  without  even  a  side- 
lane.  *  That's  just  what  we  depend  on,'  said  the 
policeman  unpleasantly. 

1  The  usual  swindle,'  said  Woodhouse  under 
his  breath,      '  What's  the  name  of  this  place  ?  ' 

'  Huckley,'  said  the  policeman.  'H-u-c-k-1-e-y,' 
and  wrote  something  in  his  note -book  at  which 
young  Ollyett  protested.  A  large  red  man  on  a 
grey  horse  who  had  been  watching  us  from  the 
other  side  of  the  hedge  shouted  an  order  we  could 
not  catch.  The  policeman  laid  his  hand  on  the 
rim  of  the  right  driving-door  (Woodhouse  carries 
his  spare  tyres  aft),  and  it  closed  on  the  button 
of  the  electric  horn.  The  grey  horse  at  once 
bolted,  and  we  could  hear  the  rider  swearing  all 
across  the  landscape. 

'  Damn  it,  man,  you've  got  your  silly  fist  on 
it !     Take  it  off! '  Woodhouse  shouted. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     163 

'  Ho  ! '  said  the  constable,  looking  carefully 
at  his  fingers  as  though  we  had  trapped  them. 
'That  won't  do  you  any  good  either,'  and  he 
wrote  once  more  in  his  note-book  before  he  allowed 
us  to  go. 

This  was  Woodhouse's  first  brush  with  motor 
law,  and  since  I  expected  no  ill  consequences  to 
myself,  I  pointed  out  that  it  was  very  serious.  I 
took  the  same  view  myself  when  in  due  time  I 
found  that  I,  too,  was  summonsed  on  charges 
ranging  from  the  use  of  obscene  language  to 
endangering  traffic. 

Judgment  was  done  in  a  little  pale-yellow 
market-town  with  a  small,  Jubilee  clock-tower 
and  a  large  corn-exchange.  Woodhouse  drove 
us  there  in  his  car.  Pallant,  who  had  not  been 
included  in  the  summons,  came  with  us  as  moral 
support.  While  we  waited  outside,  the  fat  man 
on  the  grey  horse  rode  up  and  entered  into  loud 
talk  with  his  brother  magistrates.  He  said  to 
one  of  them — for  I  took  the  trouble  to  note  it 
down — '  It  falls  away  from  my  lodge-gates,  dead 
straight,  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  I'd  defy  any 
one  to  resist  it.  We  rooked  seventy  pounds  out 
of  'em  last  month.  No  car  can  resist  the  tempta- 
tion. You  ought  to  have  one  your  side  the 
county,  Mike.     They  simply  can't  resist  it.' 

*  Whew  !  '  said  Woodhouse.  '  We're  in  for 
trouble.  Don't  you  say  a  word  —  or  Ollyett 
either  !  I'll  pay  the  fines  and  we'll  get  it  over 
as  soon  as  possible.     Where's  Pallant  ? ' 

'  At  the  back  of  the  court  somewhere,'  said 
Ollyett.      '  I  saw  him  slip  in  just  now.' 


1 64     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

The  fat  man  then  took  his  seat  on  the  Bench, 
of  which  he  was  chairman,  and  I  gathered  from 
a  bystander  that  his  name  was  Sir  Thomas  Ingell, 
Bart.,  M.P.,  of  Ingell  Park,  Huckley.  He  began 
with  an  allocution  pitched  in  a  tone  that  would 
have  justified  revolt  throughout  empires.  Evi- 
dence, when  the  crowded  little  court  did  not  drown 
it  with  applause,  was  given  in  the  pauses  of  the 
address.  They  were  all  very  proud  of  their  Sir 
Thomas,  and  looked  from  him  to  us,  wondering 
why  we  did  not  applaud  too. 

Taking  its  time  from  the  chairman,  the  Bench 
rollicked  with  us  for  seventeen  minutes.  Sir 
Thomas  explained  that  he  was  sick  and  tired  of 
processions  of  cads  of  our  type,  who  would  be 
better  employed  breaking  stones  on  the  road  than 
in  frightening  horses  worth  more  than  themselves 
or  their  ancestors.  This  was  after  it  had  been 
proved  that  Woodhouse's  man  had  turned  on 
the  horn  purposely  to  annoy  Sir  Thomas,  who 
'  happened  to  be  riding  by  '  !  There  were  other 
remarks  too — primitive  enough, — but  it  was  the 
unspeakable  brutality  of  the  tone,  even  more  than 
the  quality  of  the  justice,  or  the  laughter  of  the 
audience  that  stung  our  souls  out  of  all  reason. 
When  we  were  dismissed — to  the  tune  of  twenty- 
three  pounds,  twelve  shillings  and  sixpence — we 
waited  for  Pallant  to  join  us,  while  we  listened  to 
the  next  case — one  of  driving  without  a  licence. 
Ollyett  with  an  eye  to  his  evening  paper,  had 
already  taken  very  full  notes  of  our  own,  but  we 
did  not  wish  to  seem  prejudiced. 

'  It's  all  right,'  said  the  reporter  of  the  local 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     165 

paper  soothingly.     *  We  never  report  Sir  Thomas 
in  extenso.     Only  the  fines  and  charges.' 

*  Oh,  thank  you,'  Ollyett  replied,  and  I  heard 
him  ask  who  every  one  in  court  might  be.  The 
local  reporter  was  very  communicative. 

The  new  victim,  a  large,  flaxen-haired  man  in 
somewhat  striking  clothes,  to  which  Sir  Thomas, 
now  thoroughly  warmed,  drew  public  attention, 
said  that  he  had  left  his  licence  at  home.  Sir 
Thomas  asked  him  if  he  expected  the  police  to  go 
to  his  home  address  at  Jerusalem  to  find  it  for 
him  ;  and  the  court  roared.  Nor  did  Sir  Thomas 
approve  of  the  man's  name,  but  insisted  on  calling 
him  '  Mr.  Masquerader,'  and  every  time  he  did 
so,  all  his  people  shouted.  Evidently  this  was 
their  established  auto-da-fi. 

'  He  didn't  summons  me — because  I'm  in  the 
House,  I  suppose.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  ask  a 
Question,'  said  Pallant,  reappearing  at  the  close  of 
the  case. 

*  I  think  /  shall  have  to  give  it  a  little 
publicity  too,'  said  Woodhouse.  '  We  can't  have 
this  kind  of  thing  going  on,  you  know.'  His  face 
was  set  and  quite  white.  Pallant's,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  black,  and  I  know  that  my  very  stomach 
had  turned  with  rage.     Ollyett  was  dumb. 

'Well,  let's  have  lunch,'  Woodhouse  said  at 
last.  '  Then  we  can  get  away  before  the  show 
breaks  up.' 

We  drew  Ollyett  from  the  arms  of  the  local 
reporter,  crossed  the  Market  Square  to  the  Red 
Lion  and  found  Sir  Thomas's  '  Mr.  Masquerader  ' 
just  sitting  down  to  beer,  beef  and  pickles. 


1 66     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Ah  !  '  said  he,  in  a  large  voice.  '  Companions 
in  misfortune.     Won't  you  gentlemen  join  me  ? ' 

I  Delighted,'  said  Woodhouse.  '  What  did  you 
get  ? ' 

I I  haven't  decided.  It  might  make  a  good 
turn,  but — the  public  aren't  educated  up  to  it  yet. 
It's  beyond  'em.  If  it  wasn't,  that  red  dub  on 
the  Bench  would  be  worth  fifty  a  week.' 

'  Where  ? '  said  Woodhouse.  The  man  looked 
at  him  with  unaffected  surprise. 

1  At  any  one  of  My  places,'  he  replied.  '  But 
perhaps  you  live  here  r ' 

'  Good  heavens  ! '  cried  young  Ollyett  suddenly. 
*  You  are  Masquerier,  then  ?    I  thought  you  were ! ' 

1  Bat  Masquerier.'  He  let  the  words  fall 
with  the  weight  of  an  international  ultimatum. 
1  Yes,  that's  all  I  am.  But  you  have  the  advantage 
of  me,  gentlemen.' 

For  the  moment,  while  we  were  introducing 
ourselves,  I  was  puzzled.  Then  I  recalled  prismatic 
music-hall  posters — of  enormous  acreage — that 
had  been  the  unnoticed  background  of  my  visits 
to  London  for  years  past.  Posters  of  men  and 
women,  singers,  jongleurs,  impersonators  and 
audacities  of  every  draped  and  undraped  brandy  all 
moved  on  and  off  in  London  and  the  Provinces 
by  Bat  Masquerier — with  the  long  wedge-tailed 
flourish  following  the  final  '  r.' 

'  /  knew  you  at  once,'  said  Pallant,  the  trained 
M.P.,  and  I  promptly  backed  the  lie.  Woodhouse 
mumbled  excuses.  Bat  Masquerier  was  not  moved 
for  or  against  us  any  more  than  the  frontage  of 
one  of  his  own  palaces. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     167 

'  I  always  tell  My  people  there's  a  limit  to  the 
size  of  the  lettering,'  he  said.  '  Overdo  that  and 
the  ret'na  doesn't  take  it  in.  Advertisin'  is  the 
most  delicate  of  all  the  sciences.' 

1  There's  one  man  in  the  world  who  is  going  to 
get  a  little  of  it  if  I  live  for  the  next  twenty-four 
hours,'  said  Woodhouse,  and  explained  how  this 
would  come  about. 

Masquerier  stared  at  him  lengthily  with  gun- 
metal-blue  eyes. 

'  You  mean  it  ? '  he  drawled  ;  the  voice  was  as 
magnetic  as  the  look. 

'  /  do,'  said  Ollyett.  ■  That  business  of  the 
horn  alone  ought  to  have  him  off  the  Bench  in 
three  months.'  Masquerier  looked  at  him  even 
longer  than  he  had  looked  at  Woodhouse. 

'  He  told  me,'  he  said  suddenly,  '  that  my 
home-address  was  Jerusalem.     You  heard  that  ? ' 

'  But  it  was  the  tone — the  tone,'  Ollyett  cried. 

'  You  noticed  that,  too,  did  you  ?  '  said 
Masquerier.  '  That's  the  artistic  temperament. 
You  can  do  a  lot  with  it.  And  I'm  Bat 
Masquerier,'  he  went  on.  He  dropped  his  chin 
in  his  fists  and  scowled  straight  in  front  of 
him.  .  .  .  '  I  made  the  Silhouettes — I  made  the 
Trefoil  and  the  Jocunda.  I  made  'Dal  Benzaguen.' 
Here  Ollyett  sat  straight  up,  for  in  common  with 
the  youth  of  that  year  he  worshipped  Miss  Vidal 
Benzaguen  of  the  Trefoil  immensely  and  unre- 
servedly. ' "  Is  that  a  dressing-gown  or  an  ulster 
you're  supposed  to  be  wearing  ? "  You  heard 
that  ?  .  .  .  "  And  I  suppose  you  hadn't  time  to 
brush  your  hair  either  ?  "     You  heard  that  ?  .  .   . 


1 68      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Now,  you  hear  me  ! '  His  voice  filled  the  coffee- 
room,  then  dropped  to  a  whisper  as  dreadful  as  a 
surgeon's  before  an  operation.  He  spoke  for 
several  minutes.  Pallant  muttered  '  Hear!  hear  !' 
I  saw  Ollyett's  eye  flash — it  was  to  Ollyett  that 
Masquerier  addressed  himself  chiefly, — and  Wood- 
house  leaned  forward  with  joined  hands. 

'  Are  you  with  me  ? '  he  went  on,  gathering  us 
all  up  in  one  sweep  of  the  arm.  '  When  I  begin 
a  thing  I  see  it  through,  gentlemen.  What  Bat 
can't  break,  breaks  him  !  But  I  haven't  struck 
that  thing  yet.  This  is  no  one-turn  turn-it-down 
show.  This  is  business  to  the  dead  finish.  Are 
you  with  me,  gentlemen  ?  Good  !  Now,  we'll 
pool  our  assets.  One  London  morning,  and  one 
provincial  daily,  didn't  you  say  ?  One  weekly 
commercial  ditto  and  one  M.P.' 

1  Not  much  use,  I'm  afraid,'  Pallant  smirked. 

'But  privileged.  But  privileged, '  he  returned. 
'And  we  have  also  my  little  team  —  London, 
Blackburn,  Liverpool,  Leeds — I'll  tell  you  about 
Manchester  later — and  Me  !  Bat  Masquerier.' 
He  breathed  the  name  reverently  into  his  tankard. 
'  Gentlemen,  when  our  combination  has  finished 
with  Sir  Thomas  Ingell,  Bart.,  M.P.,  and  every- 
thing else  that  is  his,  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  will 
be  a  winsome  bit  of  Merrie  England  beside  'em. 
I  must  go  back  to  town  now,  but  I  trust  you 
gentlemen  will  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  at  dinner  to-night  at  the  Chop  Suey — the 
Red  Amber  Room  —  and  we'll  block  out  the 
scenario.'  He  laid  his  hand  on  young  Ollyett's 
shoulder  and  added  :    '  It's  your  brains  I  want.' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     169 

Then  he  left,  in  a  good  deal  of  astrachan  collar 
and  nickel-plated  limousine,  and  the  place  felt  less 
crowded. 

We  ordered  our  car  a  few  minutes  later.  As 
Woodhouse,  Ollyett  and  I  were  getting  in,  Sir 
Thomas  Ingell,  Bart.,  M.P.,  came  out  of  the  Hall 
of  Justice  across  the  square  and  mounted  his  horse. 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  if  he  had  gone  in 
silence  he  might  even  then  have  been  saved,  but 
as  he  settled  himself  in  the  saddle  he  caught  sight 
of  us  and  must  needs  shout  :  '  Not  off  yet  ? 
You'd  better  get  away  and  you'd  better  be  careful.' 
At  that  moment  Pallant,  who  had  been  buying 
picture-postcards,  came  out  of  the  inn,  took  Sir 
Thomas's  eye  and  very  leisurely  entered  the  car.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  for  one  instant  there  was  a  shade 
of  uneasiness  on  the  baronet's  grey-whiskered  face. 

{ I  hope,'  said  Woodhouse  after  several  miles, 
'  I  hope  he's  a  widower.' 

1  Yes,'  said  Pallant.  '  For  his  poor,  dear  wife's 
sake  I  hope  that,  very  much  indeed.  I  suppose  he 
didn't  see  me  in  Court.  Oh,  here's  the  parish 
history  of  Huckley  written  by  the  Rector  and 
here's  your  share  of  the  picture-postcards.  Are 
we  all  dining  with  this  Mr.  Masquerier  to-night?  ' 

'  Yes  ! '  said  we  all. 

If  Woodhouse  knew  nothing  of  journalism, 
young  Ollyett,  who  had  graduated  in  a  hard  school, 
knew  a  good  deal.  Our  halfpenny  evening  paper, 
which  we  will  call  The  Bun  to  distinguish  her 
from  her  prosperous  morning  sister,  The  Cake, 
was  not  only  diseased  but  corrupt.     We  found 


170     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

this  out  when  a  man  brought  us  the  prospectus  of 
a  new  oil-field  and  demanded  sub-leaders  on  its 
prosperity.  Ollyett  talked  pure  Brasenose  to  him 
for  three  minutes.  Otherwise  he  spoke  and 
wrote  trade-English  —  a  toothsome  amalgam  of 
Americanisms  and  epigrams.  But  though  the 
slang  changes  the  game  never  alters,  and  Ollyett 
and  I  and,  in  the  end,  some  others  enjoyed  it 
immensely.  It  was  weeks  ere  we  could  see  the 
wood  for  the  trees,  but  so  soon  as  the  staff  realised 
that  they  had  proprietors  who  backed  them  right 
or  wrong,  and  specially  when  they  were  wrong 
(which  is  the  sole  secret  of  journalism),  and  that 
their  fate  did  not  hang  on  any  passing  owner's 
passing  mood,  they  did  miracles. 

But  we  did  not  neglect  Huckley.  As  Ollyett 
said  our  first  care  was  to  create  an  '  arresting 
atmosphere '  round  it.  He  used  to  visit  the 
village  of  week-ends,  on  a  motor-bicycle  with  a 
side-car  ;  for  which  reason  I  left  the  actual  place 
alone  and  dealt  with  it  in  the  abstract.  Yet  it  was 
I  who  drew  first  blood.  Two  inhabitants  of 
Huckley  wrote  to  contradict  a  small,  quite  solid 
paragraph  in  The  Bun  that  a  hoopoe  had  been 
seen  at  Huckley  and  had,  '  of  course,  been  shot 
by  the  local  sportsmen.'  There  was  some  heat  in 
their  letters,  both  of  which  we  published.  Our 
version  of  how  the  hoopoe  got  his  crest  from 
King  Solomon  was,  I  grieve  to  say,  so  inaccurate 
that  the  Rector  himself — no  sportsman  as  he 
pointed  out,  but  a  lover  of  accuracy — wrote  to  us 
to  correct  it.  We  gave  his  letter  good  space  and 
thanked  him. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     171 

1  This  priest  is  going  to  be  useful,'  said  Ollyett. 
'  He  has  the  impartial  mind.     I  shall  vitalise  him.' 

Forthwith  he  created  M.  L.  Sigden,  a  recluse 
of  refined  tastes  who  in  The  Bun  demanded  to 
know  whether  this  Huckley-of-the-Hoopoe  was 
the  Hugly  of  his  boyhood  and  whether,  by  any 
chance,  the  fell  change  of  name  had  been  wrought 
by  collusion  between  a  local  magnate  and  the 
railway,  in  the  mistaken  interests  of  spurious  re- 
finement. *  For  I  knew  it  and  loved  it  with  the 
maidens  of  my  day — eheu  ab  angulo  ! — as  Hugly,' 
wrote  M.  L.  Sigden  from  Oxford. 

Though  other  papers  scoffed,  The  Bun  was 
gravely  sympathetic.  Several  people  wrote  to 
deny  that  Huckley  had  been  changed  at  birth. 
Only  the  Rector — no  philosopher  as  he  pointed 
out,  but  a  lover  of  accuracy — had  his  doubts, 
which  he  laid  publicly  before  Mr.  M.  L.  Sigden, 
who  suggested,  through  The  Buny  that  the  little 
place  might  have  begun  life  in  Anglo-Saxon  days 
as  '  Hogslea '  or  among  the  Normans  as  -  Argile,' 
on  account  of  its  much  clay.  The  Rector  had 
his  own  ideas  too  (he  said  it  was  mostly  gravel), 
and  M.  L.  Sigden  had  a  fund  of  reminiscences. 
Oddly  enough — which  is  seldom  the  case  with 
free  reading-matter — our  subscribers  rather  relished 
the  correspondence,  and  contemporaries  quoted 
freely. 

'The  secret  of  power,'  said  Ollyett,  'is  not  the 
big  stick.  It's  the  liftable  stick.'  (This  means 
the  'arresting'  quotation  of  six  or  seven  lines.) 
'  Did  you  see  the  Spec,  had  a  middle  on  "  Rural 
Tenacities"   last   week.     That  was   all  Huckley. 


172      A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

I'm  doing  a  "  Mobiquity "  on  Huckley  next 
week.' 

Our  '  Mobiquities '  were  Friday  evening 
accounts  of  easy  motor-bike-£#w-side-car  trips 
round  London,  illustrated  (we  could  never  get 
that  machine  to  work  properly)  by  smudgy  maps. 
Ollyett  wrote  the  stuff  with  a  fervour  and  a 
delicacy  which  I  always  ascribed  to  the  side-car. 
His  account  of  Epping  Forest,  for  instance,  was 
simply  young  love  with  its  soul  at  its  lips.  But 
his  Huckley  '  Mobiquity '  would  have  sickened 
a  soap-boiler.  It  chemically  combined  loathsome 
familiarity,  leering  suggestion,  slimy  piety  and 
rancid  '  social  service '  in  one  fuming  compost 
that  fairly  lifted  me  off  my  feet. 

'  Yes,'  said  he,  after  compliments.  '  It's  the 
most  vital,  arresting  and  dynamic  bit  of  tump  I've 
done  up  to  date.  Non  nobis  gloria !  I  met  Sir 
Thomas  Ingell  in  his  own  park.  He  talked  to  me 
again.     He  inspired  most  of  it.' 

'  Which  ?  The  "  glutinous  native  drawl,"  or 
"  the  neglected  adenoids  of  the  village  children  "  ?  ' 
I  demanded. 

1  Oh,  no  !  That's  only  to  bring  in  the  panel 
doctor.     It's  the  last  flight  we — I'm  proudest  of.' 

This  dealt  with  c  the  crepuscular  penumbra 
spreading  her  dim  limbs  over  the  boskage  '  ;  with 
'jolly  rabbits';  with  a  herd  of  'gravid  polled 
Angus '  ;  and  with  the  '  arresting,  gipsy-like 
face  of  their  swart,  scholarly  owner — as  well 
known  at  the  Royal  Agricultural  Shows  as  that 
of  our  late  King-Emperor.' 

'"Swart"   is   good  and   so's   "gravid,"'   said 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED 


*73 


I,  '  but  the  panel  doctor  will  be  annoyed  about 
the  adenoids.' 

'  Not  half  as  much  as  Sir  Thomas  will  about 
his  face,'  said  Ollyett.  '  And  if  you  only  knew 
what  I've  left  out !  ' 

He  was  right.  The  panel  doctor  spent  his 
week-end  (this  is  the  advantage  of  Friday  articles)  in 
overwhelming  us  with  a  professional  counterblast  of 
no  interest  whatever  to  our  subscribers.  We  told 
him  so,  and  he,  then  and  there,  battered  his 
way  with  it  into  the  Lancet  where  they  are 
keen  on  glands,  and  forgot  us  altogether.  But 
Sir  Thomas  Ingell  was  of  sterner  stuff.  He  must 
have  spent  a  happy  week-end  too.  The  letter 
which  we  received  from  him  on  Monday  proved 
him  to  be  a  kinless  loon  of  upright  life,  for  no 
woman,  however  remotely  interested  in  a  man 
would  have  let  it  pass  the  home  wastepaper-basket. 
He  objected  to  our  references  to  his  own  herd, 
to  his  own  labours  in  his  own  village,  which  he 
said  was  a  Model  Village,  and  to  our  infernal 
insolence  ;  but  he  objected  most  to  our  invoice 
of  his  features.  We  wrote  him  courteously  to 
ask  whether  the  letter  was  meant  for  publica- 
tion. He,  remembering,  I  presume,  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  wrote  back,  '  publish  and  be 
damned.' 

1  Oh  !  This  is  too  easy,'  Ollyett  said  as  he 
began  heading  the  letter. 

'  Stop  a  minute,'  I  said.  '  The  game  is  getting 
a  little  beyond  us.  To-night's  the  Bat  dinner.' 
(I  may  have  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  our  dinner 
with  Bat  Masquerier  in  the  Red  Amber  Room  of 


174     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  Chop  Suey  had  come  to  be  a  weekly  affair.) 
'  Hold  it  over  till  they've  all  seen  it.' 

1  Perhaps  you're  right,'  he  said.  '  You  might 
waste  it.' 

At  dinner,  then,  Sir  Thomas's  letter  was  handed 
round.  Bat  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  other  matters, 
but  Pallant  was  very  interested. 

1  I've  got  an  idea,'  he  said  presently.  '  Could 
you  put  something  into  The  Bun  to-morrow  about 
foot-and-mouth  disease  in  that  fellow's  herd  ? ' 

'  Oh,  plague  if  you  like,'  Ollyett  replied. 
'  They're  only  five  measly  Shorthorns.  I  saw  one 
lying  down  in  the  park.  She'll  serve  as  a  sub- 
stratum of  fact. 

'  Then,  do  that ;  and  hold  the  letter  over  mean- 
while.    I  think  /  come  in  here,'  said  Pallant. 

■  Why  ? '  said  I. 

'  Because  there's  something  coming  up  in  the 
House  about  foot-and-mouth,  and  because  he  wrote 
me  a  letter  after  that  little  affair  when  he  fined 
you.  'Took  ten  days  to  think  it  over.  Here 
you  are,'  said  Pallant.  *  House  of  Commons 
paper,  you  see.' 

We  read  : 

Dear  Pallant — Although  in  the  past  our  paths 
have  not  lain  much  together,  I  am  sure  you  will  agree 
with  me  that  on  the  floor  of  the  House  ail  members  are 
on  a  footing  of  equality.  I  make  bold,  therefore,  to 
approach  you  in  a  matter  which  I  think  capable  of  a 
very  different  interpretation  from  that  which  perhaps  was 
put  upon  it  by  your  friends.  Will  you  let  them  know 
that  that  was  the  case  and  that  I  was  in  no  way  swayed 
by  animus  in  the  exercise  of  my  magisterial  duties,  which 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     175 

as  you,  as  a  brother  magistrate,  can  imagine  are  frequently 
very  distasteful  to — Yours  very  sincerely, 

T.  Ingell. 

P.S. — I  have  seen  to  it  that  the  motor  vigilance  to 
which  your  friends  took  exception  has  been  considerably 
relaxed  in  my  district. 

4  What  did  you  answer  ? '  said  Ollyett,  when 
all  our  opinions  had  been  expressed. 

1 1  told  him  I  couldn't  do  anything  in  the 
matter.  And  I  couldn't  —  then.  But  you'll 
remember  to  put  in  that  foot-and-mouth  para- 
graph.    I  want  something  to  work  upon.' 

'  It  seems  to  me  The  Bun  has  done  all  the 
work  up  to  date,'  I  suggested.  '  When  does  The 
Cake  come  in  ?  ' 

1  The  Cake,'  said  Woodhouse,  and  I  remembered 
afterwards  that  he  spoke  like  a  Cabinet  Minister 
on  the  eve  of  a  Budget,  '  reserves  to  itself  the 
fullest  right  to  deal  with  situations  as  they  arise.' 

'  Ye-eh  !  '  Bat  Masquerier  shook  himself  out 
of  his  thoughts.  '  "  Situations  as  they  arise."  I 
ain't  idle  either.  But  there's  no  use  fishing  till 
the  swim's  baited.  You  ' — he  turned  to  Ollyett — 
'manufacture  very  good  ground-bait.  ...  I  always 
tell  My  people What  the  deuce  is  that  ? ' 

There  was  a  burst  of  song  from  another  private 
dining-room  across  the  landing.  '  It  ees  some 
ladies  from  the  Trefoil,'  the  waiter  began. 

'  Oh,  I  know  that.  What  are  they  singing, 
though  ? ' 

He  rose  and  went  out,  to  be  greeted  by  shouts 
of   applause    from    that    merry   company.      Then 


176     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

there  was  silence,  such  as  one  hears  in  the  form- 
room  after  a  master's  entry.  Then  a  voice  that 
we  loved  began  again  :  *  Here  we  go  gathering 
nuts  in  May — nuts  in  May — nuts  in  May  ! ' 

'It's  only  'Dal — and  some  nuts,'  he  explained 
when  he  returned.  '  She  says  she's  coming  in  to 
dessert.'  He  sat  down,  humming  the  old  tune  to 
himself,  and  till  Miss  Vidal  Benzaguen  entered, 
he  held  us  speechless  with  tales  of  the  artistic 
temperament. 

We  obeyed  Pallant  to  the  extent  of  slipping 
into  The  Bun  a  wary  paragraph  about  cows  lying 
down  and  dripping  at  the  mouth,  which  might  be 
read  either  as  an  unkind  libel  or,  in  the  hands  of 
a  capable  lawyer,  as  a  piece  of  faithful  nature- 
study. 

'And  besides,'  said  Ollyett,  'we  allude  to 
"  gravid  polled  Angus."  I  am  advised  that  no 
action  can  lie  in  respect  of  virgin  Shorthorns. 
Pallant  wants  us  to  come  to  the  House  to-night. 
He's  got  us  places  for  the  Strangers'  Gallery.  I'm 
beginning  to  like  Pallant.' 

'  Masquerier  seems  to  like  you,'  I  said. 

'  Yes,  but  I'm  afraid  of  him,'  Ollyett  answered 
with  perfect  sincerity.  '  I  am.  He's  the  Absolutely 
Amoral  Soul.     I've  never  met  one  yet.' 

We  went  to  the  House  together.  It  happened 
to  be  an  Irish  afternoon,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  got 
the  cries  and  the  faces  a  little  sorted  out,  I  gathered 
there  were  grievances  in  the  air,  but  how  many  of 
them  was  beyond  me. 

'It's  all  right,'  said  Ollyett  of  the  trained 
ear.     '  They've  shut  their  ports  against — oh  yes — 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     177 

export  of  Irish  cattle  !  Foot-and-mouth  disease  at 
Ballyhellion.     /  see  Pallant's  idea  ! ' 

The  House  was  certainly  all  mouth  for  the 
moment,  but,  as  I  could  feel,  quite  in  earnest.  A 
Minister  with  a  piece  of  typewritten  paper  seemed 
.  to  be  fending  off  volleys  of  insults.  He  reminded 
me  somehow  of  a  nervous  huntsman  breaking  up 
a  fox  in  the  face  of  rabid  hounds. 

1  It's  question-time.  They're  asking  questions,' 
said  Ollyett.     '  Look  !     Pallant's  up.* 

There  was  no  mistaking  it.  His  voice,  which 
his  enemies  said  was  his  one  parliamentary  asset, 
silenced  the  hubbub  as  toothache  silences  mere 
singing  in  the  ears.     He  said  : 

1  Arising  out  of  that,  may  I  ask  if  any  special 
consideration  has  recently  been  shown  in  regard 
to  any  suspected  outbreak  of  this  disease  on  this 
side  of  the  Channel  ? ' 

He  raised  his  hand  ;  it  held  a  noon  edition  of 
The  Bun.  We  had  thought  it  best  to  drop  the 
paragraph  out  of  the  later  ones.  He  would  have 
continued,  but  something  in  a  grey  frock-coat 
roared  and  bounded  on  a  bench  opposite,  and 
waved  another  Bun.     It  was  Sir  Thomas  Ingell. 

*  As  the  owner  of  the  herd  so  dastardly  impli- 
cated  '     His  voice  was  drowned  in  shouts  of 

*  Order  ! ' — the  Irish  leading. 

4  What's  wrong  ? '  I  asked  Ollyett.  '  He's 
got  his  hat  on  his  head,  hasn't  he  ?  ' 

*  Yes,  but  his  wrath  should  have  been  put  as  a 
question.' 

*  Arising  out  of  that,  Mr.  Speaker,  Sirrr  !  '  Sir 
Thomas  bellowed  through  a  lull,  '  are  you  aware 

N 


178     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

that  —  that  all  this  is  a  conspiracy  —  part  of  a 
dastardly  conspiracy  to  make  Huckley  ridiculous 
— to  make  us  ridiculous  ?  Part  of  a  deep-laid  plot 
to  make  me  ridiculous,  Mr.  Speaker,  Sir  !  ' 

The  man's  face  showed  almost  black  against 
his  white  whiskers,  and  he  struck  out  swimmingly 
with  his  arms.  His  vehemence  puzzled  and  held 
the  House  for  an  instant,  and  the  Speaker  took 
advantage  of  it  to  lift  his  pack  from  Ireland  to  a 
new  scent.  He  addressed  Sir  Thomas  Ingell  in 
tones  of  measured  rebuke,  meant  also,  I  imagine, 
for  the  whole  House,  which  lowered  its  hackles  at 
the  word.  Then  Pallant,  shocked  and  pained  : 
*  I  can  only  express  my  profound  surprise  that  in 
response  to  my  simple  question  the  honourable 
member  should  have  thought  fit  to  indulge  in  a 
personal  attack.    If  I  have  in  any  way  offended ' 

Again  the  Speaker  intervened,  for  it  appeared 
that  he  regulated  these  matters. 

He,  too.  expressed  surprise,  and  Sir  Thomas  sat 
back  in  a  hush  of  reprobation  that  seemed  to  have 
the  chill  of  the  centuries  behind  it.  The  Empire's 
work  was  resumed. 

'  Beautiful  ! '  said  I,  and  I  felt  hot  and  cold  up 
my  back. 

'  And  now  we'll  publish  his  letter,'  said  OJlyett. 

We  did — on  the  heels  of  his  carefully  reported 
outburst.  We  made  no  comment.  With  that  rare 
instinct  for  grasping  the  heart  of  a  situation  which 
is  the  mark  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  all  our  contem- 
poraries and,  I  should  say,  two- thirds  of  our 
correspondents  demanded  how  such  a  person  could 
be  made  more  ridiculous  than  he  had  already  proved 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     179 

himself  to  be.  But  beyond  spelling  his  name 
'  Injle,'  we  alone  refused  to  hit  a  man  when  he 
was  down. 

"  There's  no  need,'  said  Ollyett.  '  The  whole 
press  is  on  the  huckle  from  end  to  end.' 

Even  Woodhouse  was  a  little  astonished  at  the 
ease  with  which  it  had  come  about,  and  said  as  much. 

'  Rot ! '  said  Ollyett.  « We  haven't  really 
begun.     Huckley  isn't  news  yet.' 

•  What  do  you  mean  ? '  said  Woodhouse,  who 
had  grown  to  have  great  respect  for  his  young  but 
by  no  means  distant  connection. 

(  Mean  ?  By  the  grace  of  God,  Master  Ridley, 
I  mean  to  have  it  so  that  when  Huckley  turns 
over  in  its  sleep,  Reuters  and  the  Press  Association 
jump  out  of  bed  to  cable.'  Then  he  went  off  at 
score  about  certain  restorations  in  Huckley  Church 
which,  he  said — and  he  seemed  to  spend  his  every 
week-end  there — had  been  perpetrated  by  the 
Rector's  predecessor,  who  had  abolished  a  '  leper- 
window  '  or  a  '  squinch-hole  '  (whatever  these  may 
be)  to  institute  a  lavatory  in  the  vestry.  It  did 
not  strike  me  as  stuff  for  which  Reuters  or  the 
Press  Association  would  lose  much  sleep,  and  I 
left  him  declaiming  to  Woodhouse  about  a 
fourteenth-century  font  which,  he  said,  he  had 
unearthed  in  the  sexton's  tool-shed. 

My  methods  were  more  on  the  lines  of  peaceful 
penetration.  An  odd  copy,  in  The  Buns  rag-and- 
bone  library,  of  Hone's  Every -Day  Book  had 
revealed  to  me  the  existence  of  a  village  dance 
founded,  like  all  village  dances,  on  Druidical 
mysteries  connected  with  the  Solar  Solstice  (which 


180     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

is  always  unchallengeable)  and  Midsummer  Morning, 
which  is  dewy  and  refreshing  to  the  London  eye. 
For  this  I  take  no  credit — Hone  being  a  mine 
any  one  can  work — but  that  I  rechristened  that 
dance,  after  I  had  revised  it,  '  The  Gubby  '  is  my 
title  to  immortal  fame.  It  was  still  to  be  witnessed, 
I  wrote,  *  in  all  its  poignant  purity  at  Huckley, 
that  last  home  of  significant  mediaeval  survivals '  ; 
and  I  fell  so  in  love  with  my  creation  that  I  kept 
it  back  for  days,  enamelling  and  burnishing. 

1  You's  better  put  it  in,'  said  Ollyett  at  last. 
'  It's  time  we  asserted  ourselves  again.  The  other 
fellows  are  beginning  to  poach.  You  saw  that 
thing  in  the  Pinnacle  about  Sir  Thomas's  Model 
Village  ?  He  must  have  got  one  of  their  chaps 
down  to  do  it.' 

''Nothing  like  the  wounds  of  a  friend,'  I  said. 
1  That    account    of   the    non-alcoholic    pub   alone 


was- 


'  I  liked  the  bit  best  about  the  white-tiled 
laundry  and  the  Fallen  Virgins  who  wash  Sir 
Thomas's  dress  shirts.  Our  side  couldn't  come 
within  a  mile,  of  that,  you  know.  We  haven't 
the  proper  flair  for  sexual  slobber.' 

'  That's  what  I'm  always  saying,'  I  retorted. 
1  Leave  'em  alone.  The  other  fellows  are  doing 
our  work  for  us  now.  Besides  I  want  to  touch 
up  my  "  Gubby  Dance  "  a  little  more.' 

'  No.  You'll  spoil  it.  Let's  shove  it  in  to-day. 
For  one  thing  it's  Literature.  I  don't  go  in  for 
compliments  as  you  know,  but,  etc.  etc' 

I  had  a  healthy  suspicion  of  young  Ollyett  in 
every   aspect,  but  though   I   knew   that  I  should 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     181 

have  to  pay  for  it,  I  fell  to  his  flattery,  and  my 
priceless  article  on  the  '  Gubby  Dance '  appeared. 
Next  Saturday  he  asked  me  to  bring  out  The 
Bun  in  his  absence,  which  I  naturally  assumed 
would  be  connected  with  the  little  maroon  side-car. 
I  was  wrong. 

On  the  following  Monday  I  glanced  at  The 
Cake  at  breakfast-time  to  make  sure,  as  usual,  of 
her  inferiority  to  my  beloved  but  unremunerative 
Bun.  I  opened  on  a  heading  :  *  The  Village  that 
Voted  the  Earth  was  Flat.'  I  read  ...  I  read  that 
the  Geoplanarian  Society — a  society  devoted  to  the 
proposition  that  the  earth  is  flat — had  held  its 
Annual  Banquet  and  Exercises  at  Huckley  on 
Saturday,  when  after  convincing  addresses,  amid 
scenes  of  the  greatest  enthusiasm,  Huckley  village 
had  decided  by  an  unanimous  vote  of  438  that  the 
earth  was  flat.  1  do  not  remember  that  I  breathed 
again  till  I  had  finished  the  two  columns  of 
description  that  followed.  Only  one  man  could 
have  written  them.  They  were  flawless — crisp, 
nervous,  austere  yet  human,  poignant,  vital, 
arresting  —  most  distinctly  arresting  —  dynamic 
enough  to  shift  a  city — and  quotable  by  whole 
sticks  at  a  time.  And  there  was  a  leader,  a  grave 
and  poised  leader,  which  tore  me  in  two  with 
mirth,  until  I  remembered  that  I  had  been  left 
out — infamously  and  unjustifiably  dropped.  I 
went  to  Ollyett's  rooms.  He  was  breakfasting, 
and,  to  do  him  justice,  looked  conscience-stricken. 

'  It  wasn't  my  fault,'  he  began.  '  It  was  Bat 
Masquerier.  I  swear  /  would  have  asked  you  to 
come  if ' 


1 82     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Never  mind  that,'  I  said.  '  It's  the  best  bit 
of  work,  you've  ever  done  or  will  do.  Did  any  of 
it  happen  ? ' 

'  Happen  ?  Heavens  !  D'you  think  even  1 
could  have  invented  it  ? ' 

1  Is  it  exclusive  to  The  Cake}  '   I  cried. 

*  It  cost  Bat  Masquerier  two  thousand,'  Ollyett 
replied.  '  D'you  think  he'd  let  any  one  else  in  on 
that  ?  But  I  give  you  my  sacred  word  I  knew 
nothing:  about  it  till  he  asked  me  to  come  down 
and  cover  it.  He  had  Huckley  posted  in  three 
colours,  "  The  Geoplanarians'  Annual  Banquet  and 
Exercises."  Yes,  he  invented  "  Geoplanarians." 
He  wanted  Huckley  to  think  it  meant  aeroplanes. 
Yes,  I  know  that  there  is  a  real  Society  that  thinks 
the  world's  flat — they  ought  to  be  grateful  for  the 
lift — but  Bat  made  his  own.  He  did  !  He  created 
the  whole  show,  I  tell  you.  He  swept  out  half 
his  Halls  for  the  job.  Think  of  that — on  a 
Saturday  !  They — we  went  down  in  motor  char-a- 
bancs — three  of  'em — one  pink,  one  primrose,  and 
one  forget-me-not  blue — twenty  people  in  each 
one  and  "  The  Earth  is  Flat "  on  each  side  and 
across  the  back.  I  went  with  Teddy  Rickets  and 
Lafone  from  the  Trefoil,  and  both  the  Silhouette 
Sisters,  and — wait  a  minute  ! — the  Crossleigh  Trio. 
You  know  the  Every-Day  Dramas  Trio  at  the 
Jocunda  —  Ada  Crossleigh,  "Bunt"  Crossleigh, 
and  little  Victorine  ?  Them.  And  there  was  Hoke 
Ramsden,  the  lightning-change  chap  in  Morgiana 
and  Drexel — and  there  was  Billy  Turpeen.  Yes, 
you  know  him  !  The  North  London  Star.  "  I'm 
the  Referee  that  got  himself  disliked  at  Blackheath." 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     183 

That  chap  !  And  there  was  Mackaye — that  one- 
eyed  Scotch  fellow  that  all  Glasgow  is  crazy  about. 
Talk  of  subordinating  yourself  for  Art's  sake  ! 
Mackaye  was  the  earnest  inquirer  who  got 
converted  at  the  end  of  the  meeting.  And  there 
was  quite  a  lot  of  girls  I  didn't  know,  and — oh, 
yes — there  was  'Dal  !  'Dal  Benzaguen  herself ! 
We  sat  together,  going  and  coming.  She's  all  the 
darling  there  ever  was.  She  sent  you  her  love, 
and  she  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she  won't  forget 
about  Nellie  Farren.  She  says  you've  given  her 
an  ideal  to  work  for.  She  ?  Oh,  she  was  the 
Lady  Secretary  to  the  Geoplanarians,  of  course. 
I  forget  who  were  in  the  other  brakes — provincial 
stars  mostly — but  they  played  up  gorgeously.  The 
art  of  the  music-hall's  changed  since  your  day. 
They  didn't  overdo  it  a  bit.  You  see,  people  who 
believe  the  earth  is  flat  don't  dress  quite  like 
other  people.  You  may  have  noticed  that  I  hinted 
at  that  in  my  account.  It's  a  rather  flat-fronted 
Ionic  style — neo -Victorian,  except  for  the  bustles, 
'Dai  told  me, — but  'Dal  looked  heavenly  in  it ! 
So  did  little  Victorine.  And  there  was  a  girl  in 
the  blue  brake  —  she's  a  provincial  —  but  she's 
coming  to  town  this  winter  and  she'll  knock  'em 
— Winnie  Deans.  Remember  that !  She  told 
Huckley  how  she  had  suffered  for  the  Cause  as  a 
governess  in  a  rich  family  where  they  believed 
that  the  world  is  round,  and  how  she  threw  up  her 
job  sooner  than  teach  immoral  geography.  That 
was  at  the  overflow  meeting  outside  the  Baptist 
chapel.  She  knocked  'em  to  sawdust!  We  must 
look  out  for  Winnie.   .   .  .  But  Lafone  !      Lafone 


i84     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

was  beyond  everything.  Impact,  personality — 
conviction — the  whole  bag  o'  tricks  !  He  sweated 
conviction.  Gad,  he  convinced  me  while  he  was 
speaking  !  (Him  ?  He  was  President  of  the 
Geoplanarians,  of  course.  Haven't  you  read  my 
account  ?)  It  is  an  infernally  plausible  theory. 
After  all,  no  one  has  actually  proved  the  earth  is 
round,  have  they  ? ' 

'  Never  mind  the  earth.  What  about  Huckley  ? ' 
'  Oh,  Huckley  got  tight.  That's  the  worst  of 
these  model  villages  if  you  let  'em  smell  fire-water. 
There's  one  alcoholic  pub  in  the  place  that  Sir 
Thomas  can't  get  rid  of.  Bat  made  it  his  base. 
He  sent  down  the  banquet  in  two  motor  lorries 
— dinner  for  five  hundred  and  drinks  for  ten 
thousand.  Huckley  voted  all  right.  Don't  you 
make  any  mistake  about  that.  No  vote,  no 
dinner.  A  unanimous  vote — exactly  as  I've  said. 
At  least,  the  Rector  and  the  Doctor  were  the  only 
dissentients.  We  didn't  count  them.  Oh  yes, 
Sir  Thomas  was  there.  He  came  and  grinned  at 
us  through  his  park  gates.  He'll  grin  worse 
to-day.  There's  an  aniline  dye  that  you  rub 
through  a  stencil-plate  that  eats  about  a  foot  into 
any  stone  and  wears  good  to  the  last.  Bat  had 
both  the  lodge-gates  stencilled  "The  Earth-  is 
flat !  "  and  all  the  barns  and  walls  they  could  get 
at.  .  .  .  Oh  Lord,  but  Huckley  was  drunk ! 
We  had  to  fill  'em  up  to  make  'em  forgive  us  for 
not  being  aeroplanes.  Unthankful  yokels  !  D'you 
realise  that  Emperors  couldn't  have  commanded 
the  talent  Bat  decanted  on  'em  ?  Why,  'Dal 
alone  was.   .  ,  .  And   by  eight  o'clock   not  even 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     185 

a  bit  of  paper  left  !  The  whole  show  packed  up 
and  gone,  and  Huckley  hoo-raying  for  the  earth 
being  flat.' 

'  Very  good,'  I  began.  '  I  am,  as  you  know, 
a  one-third  proprietor  of  The  Bun.' 

'  I  didn't  forget  that,'  Ollyett  interrupted. 
'  That  was  uppermost  in  my  mind  all  the  time. 
I've  got  a  special  account  for  The  Bun  to-day — 
it's  an  idyll — and  just  to  show  how  I  thought 
of  you,  I  told  'Dal,  coming  home,  about 
your  Gubby  Dance,  and  she  told  Winnie. 
Winnie  came  back  in  our  char-a-banc.  After  a 
bit  we  had  to  get  out  and  dance  it  in  a  field.  It's 
quite  a  dance  the  way  we  did  it — and  Lafone 
invented  a  sort  of  gorilla  lockstep  procession  at 
the  end.  Bat  had  sent  down  a  film-chap  on  the 
chance  of  getting  something.  He  was  the  son  of 
a  clergyman — a  most  dynamic  personality.  He 
said  there  isn't  anything  for  the  cinema  in 
meetings  qua  meetings — they  lack  action.  Films 
are  a  branch  of  art  by  themselves.  But  he  went 
wild  over  the  Gubby.  He  said  it  was  like  Peter's 
vision  at  Joppa.  He  took  about  a  million  feet 
of  it.  Then  I  photoed  it  exclusive  for  The  Bun. 
I've  sent  'em  in  already,  only  remember  we  must 
eliminate  Winnie's  left  leg  in  the  first  figure. 
It's  too  arresting.  .  .  .  And  there  you  are  !  But 
I  tell  you  I'm  afraid  of  Bat.  That  man's  the 
Personal  Devil.  He  did  it  all.  He  didn't  even 
come  down  himself.  He  said  he'd  distract  his 
people.' 

'  WThy  didn't  he  ask  me  to  come  ? '  I  persisted. 

*  Because  he  said  you'd  distract  me.     He  said 


1 86     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

he  wanted  my  brains  on  ice.  He  got  'em.  I 
believe  it's  the  best  thing  I've  ever  done.'  He 
reached  for  The  Cake  and  re-read  it  luxuriously. 
'  Yes,  out  and  away  the  best — supremely  quotable,' 
he  concluded,  and — after  another  survey — '  By 
God,  what  a  genius  I  was  yesterday  !  ' 

I  v/ould  have  been  angry,  but  I  had  not  the 
time.  That  morning,  Press  agencies  grovelled  to 
me  in  The  Bun  office  for  leave  to  use  certain  photos, 
which,  they  understood,  I  controlled,  of  a  certain 
village  dance.  When  I  had  sent  the  fifth  man 
away  on  the  edge  of  tears,  my  self-respect  came 
back  a  little.  Then  there  was  The  Buns  poster 
to  get  out.  Art  being  elimination,  I  fined  it 
down  to  two  words  (one  too  many,  as  it  proved) 
— '  The  Gubby  !  '  in  red,  at  which  our  manager 
protested  ;  but  by  five  o'clock,  he  told  me  that 
I  was  the  Napoleon  of  Fleet  Street.  Ollyett's 
account  in  The  Bun  of  the  Geoplanarians'  Exercises 
and  Love  Feast  lacked  the  supreme  shock  of 
his  version  in  The  Cake,  but  it  bruised  more  ; 
while  the  photos  of  '  The  Gubby '  (which,  with 
Winnie's  left  leg,  was  why  I  had  set  the  doubtful 
press  to  work  so  early)  were  beyond  praise  and, 
next  day,  beyond  price.  But  even  then  I  did  not 
understand. 

A  week  later,  I  think  it  was,  Bat  Masquerier 
telephoned  to  me  to  come  to  the  Trefoil. 

*  It's  your  turn  now,'  he  said.  *  I'm  not  asking 
Ollyett.     Come  to  the  stage-box.' 

I  went,  and,  as  Bat's  guest,  was  received  as 
Royalty  is  not.  We  sat  well  back  and  looked 
out  on  the  packed  thousands.     It  was  Morgiana  and 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     187 

Drexely  that  fluid  and  electric  review  which  Bat — 
though  he  gave  Lafone  the  credit — really  created. 

'Ye-es,'  said  Bat  dreamily,  after  Morgiana  had 
given  '  the  nasty  jar '  to  the  Forty  Thieves  in 
their  forty  oil  'combinations.'  'As  you  say,  I've 
got  'em  and  I  can  hold  'em.  What  a  man  does 
doesn't  matter  much  ;  and  how  he  does  it  don't 
matter  either.  It's  the  when — the  psychological 
moment.  'Press  can't  make  up  for  it  ;  money 
can't  ;  brains  can't.  A  lot's  luck,  but  all  the 
rest  is  genius.  I'm  not  speaking  about  My  people 
now.      I'm  talking  of  Myself.' 

Then  'Dal — she  was  the  only  one  who  dared — 
knocked  at  the  door  and  stood  behind  us  all  alive 
and  panting  as  Morgiana.  Lafone  was  carrying 
the  police-court  scene,  and  the  house  was  ripped 
up  crossways  with  laughter. 

'  Ah  !  Tell  a  fellow  now,'  she  asked  me  for  the 
twentieth  time,  '  did  you  love  Nellie  Farren  when 
you  were  young  ? ' 

'  Did  we  love  her  ?  '  I  answered.  '  "  If  the 
earth  and  the  sky  and  the  sea  " — There  were  three 
million  of  us,  'Dal,  and  we  worshipped  her.' 

*  How  did  she  get  it  across  ? '   'Dal  went  on. 

'  She  was  Nellie.  The  houses  used  to  coo 
over  her  when  she  came  on.' 

'  I've  had  a  good  deal,  but  I've  never  been  cooed 
over  yet,'  said  'Dal  wistfully. 

'  It  isn't  the  how,  it's  the  when,'  Bat  repeated. 
'Ah!' 

He  leaned  forward  as  the  house  began  to  rock 
and  peal  full-throatedly.  'Dal  fled.  A  sinuous 
and   silent  procession  was  filing  into   the   police- 


1 88     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

court  to  a  scarcely  audible  accompaniment.  It 
was  dressed — but  the  world  and  all  its  picture- 
palaces  know  how  it  was  dressed.  It  danced  and 
it  danced,  and  it  danced  the  dance  which  bit  all 
humanity  in  the  leg  for  half  a  year,  and  it  wound 
up  with  the  lockstep  finale  that  mowed  the  house 
down  in  swathes,  sobbing  and  aching.  Somebody 
in  the  gallery  moaned,  'Oh  Gord,  the  Gubby!' 
and  we  heard  the  word  run  like  a  shudder,  for  they 
had  not  a  full  breath  left  among  them.  Then 
'Dal  came  on,  an  electric  star  in  her  dark  hair,  the 
diamonds  flashing  in  her  three-inch  heels — a  vision 
that  made  no  sign  for  thirty  counted  seconds  while 
the  police-court  scene  dissolved  behind  her  into 
Morgiana's  Manicure  Palace,  and  they  recovered 
themselves.  The  star  on  her  forehead  went  out, 
and  a  soft  light  bathed  her  as  she  took — slowly, 
slowly  to  the  croon  of  adoring  strings  —  the 
eighteen  paces  forward.  We  saw  her  first  as  a 
queen  alone  ;  next  as  a  queen  for  the  first  time 
conscious  of  her  subjects,  and  at  the  end,  when 
her  hands  fluttered,  as  a  woman  delighted,  awed 
not  a  little,  but  transfigured  and  illuminated  with 
sheer,  compelling  affection  and  goodwill.  I  caught 
the  broken  mutter  of  welcome — the  coo  which  is 
more  than  tornadoes  of  applause.  It  died  and 
rose  and  died  again  lovingly. 

'  She's  got  it  across/  Bat  whispered.  c  I've 
never  seen  her  like  this.  I  told  her  to  light  up 
the  star,  but  I  was  wrong,  and  she  knew  it.  She's 
an  artist.' 

'  'Dal,  you  darling  ! '  some  one  spoke,  not  loudly 
but  it  carried  through  the  house. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     189 

*  Thank  you  ! '  'Dal  answered,  and  in  that  broken 
tone  one  heard  the  last  fetter  riveted.  *  Good 
evening,  boys!  I've  just  come  from — now — where 
the  dooce  was  it  I  have  come  from  ? '  She  turned 
to  the  impassive  files  of  the  Gubby  dancers,  and 
went  on  :  *  Ah,  so  good  of  you  to  remind  me, 
you  dear,  bun-faced  things.  I've  just  come  from 
the  village — The  Village  that  Voted  the  Earth 
was  Flat.' 

She  swept  into  that  song  with  the  full  orchestra. 
It  devastated  the  habitable  earth  for  the  next 
six  months.  Imagine,  then,  what  its  rage  and 
pulse  must  have  been  at  the  incandescent  hour  of 
its  birth  !  She  only  gave  the  chorus  once.  At 
the  end  of  the  second  verse,  *  Are  you  with  me, 
boys  ? '  she  cried,  and  the  house  tore  it  clean  away 
from  her — '  Earth  was  flat — Earth  was  flat.  Flat 
as  my  hat — Flatter  than  that ' — drowning  all  but 
the  bassoons  and  double-basses  that  marked  the 
word. 

1  Wonderful,'  I  said  to  Bat.  '  And  it's  only 
"  Nuts  in  May  "  with  variations.' 

1  Yes — but  /  did  the  variations,'  he  replied. 

At  the  last  verse  she  gestured  to  Carlini  the 
conductor,  who  threw  her  up  his  baton.  She 
caught  it  with  a  boy's  ease.  *  Are  you  with  me  ? ' 
she  cried  once  more,  and— the  maddened  house 
behind  her — abolished  all  the  instruments  except 
the  guttural  belch  of  the  double-basses  on  '  Earth  ' 
— '  The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat — 
Earth  was  flat  !  '  It  was  delirium.  Then  she 
picked  up  the  Gubby  dancers  and  led  them  in  a 
clattering   improvised   lockstep   thrice  round   the 


1 9o    A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

stage  till  her  last  kick  sent  her  diamond-hiked 
shoe  catherine-wheeling  to  the  electrolier. 

I  saw  the  forest  of  hands  raised  to  catch  it, 
heard  the  roaring  and  stamping  pass  through 
hurricanes  to  full  typhoon  ;  heard  the  song,  pinned 
down  by  the  faithful  double-basses  as  the  bull-dog 
pins  down  the  bellowing  bull,  overbear  even  those  ; 
till  at  last  the  curtain  fell  and  Bat  took  me  round 
to  her  dressing-room,  where  she  lay  spent  after  her 
seventh  call.  Still  the  song,  through  all  those 
white-washed  walls,  shook  the  reinforced  concrete 
of  the  Trefoil  as  steam  pile-drivers  shake  the  flanks 
of  a  dock. 

'  I'm  all  out — first  time  in  my  life.  Ah  !  Tell 
a  fellow  now,  did  I  get  it  across  ? '  she  whispered 
huskily. 

*  You  know  you  did,'  I  replied  as  she  dipped 
her  nose  deep  in  a  beaker  of  barley-water.  '  They 
cooed  over  you.' 

Bat  nodded.  'And  poor  Nellie's  dead — in 
Africa,  ain't  it  ? ' 

'  1  hope  I'll  die  before  they  stop  cooing,'  said 
'Dal. 

'  "  Earth  was  flat — Earth  was  flat !  "  Now  it 
was  more  like  mine-pumps  in  flood. 

'  They'll  have  the  house  down  if  you  don't 
take  another,'  some  one  called. 

1  Bless  'em  !  '  said  'Dal,  and  went  out  for  her 
eighth,  when  in  the  face  of  that  cataract  she  said 
yawning,  '  I  don't  know  how  you  feel,  children,  but 
7'm  dead.     You  be  quiet.' 

'  Hold  a  minute,'  said  Bat  to  me.  '  I've  got  to 
hear  how  it  went  in  the  provinces.     Winnie  Deans 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     191 

had  it  in  Manchester,  and  Ramsden  at  Glasgow — 
and  there  are  all  the  films  too.  I  had  rather  a 
heavy  week-end.' 

The  telephones  presently  reassured  him. 

'  It'll  do,'  said  he„  '  And  he  said  my  home 
address  was  Jerusalem.'  He  left  me  humming 
the  refrain  of  *  The  Holy  City.'  Like  Ollyett  I 
found  myself  afraid  of  that  man. 

When  I  got  out  into  the  street  and  met  the 
disgorging  picture-palaces  capering  on  the  pave- 
ments and  humming  it  (for  he  had  put  the 
gramophones  on  with  the  films),  and  when  I  saw 
far  to  the  south  the  red  electrics  flash  '  Gubby ' 
across  the  Thames,  I  feared  more  than  ever. 

A  few  days  passed  which  were  like  nothing 
except,  perhaps,  a  suspense  of  fever  in  which 
the  sick  man  perceives  the  searchlights  of  the 
world's  assembled  navies  in  act  to  converge  on 
one  minute  fragment  of  wreckage — one  only  in  all 
the  black  and  agony-strewn  sea.  Then  those 
beams  focussed  themselves.  Earth  as  we  knew  it 
— the  full  circuit  of  our  orb — laid  the  weight  of  its 
impersonal  and  searing  curiosity  on  this  Huckley 
which  had  voted  that  it  was  flat.  It  asked  for 
news  about  Huckley — where  and  what  it  might 
be,  and  how  it  talked — it  knew  how  it  danced — 
and  how  it  thought  in  its  wonderful  soul.  And 
then,  in  all  the  zealous,  merciless  press,  Huckley 
was  laid  out  for  it  to  look  at,  as  a  drop  of  pond 
water  is  exposed  on  the  sheet  of  a  magic-lantern 
show.  But  Huckley's  sheet  was  only  coterminous 
with  the  use  of  type  among  mankind.     For  the 


1 92     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

precise  moment  that  was  necessary,  Fate  ruled  it 
that  there  should  be  nothing  of  first  importance  in 
the  world's  idle  eye.  One  atrocious  murder,  a 
political  crisis,  an  incautious  or  heady  continental 
statesman,  the  mere  catarrh  of  a  king,  would  have 
wiped  out  the  significance  of  our  message,  as  a 
passing  cloud  annuls  the  urgent  helio.  But  it  was 
halcyon  weather  in  every  respect.  Ollyett  and  I 
did  not  need  to  lift  our  little  fingers  any  more 
than  the  Alpine  climber  whose  last  sentence  has 
unkeyed  the  arch  of  the  avalanche.  The  thing 
roared  and  pulverised  and  swept  beyond  eyesight 
all  by  itself — all  by  itself.  And  once  well  away, 
the  fall  of  kingdoms  could  not  have  diverted  it. 

Ours  is,  after  all,  a  kindly  earth.  While  The 
Song  ran  and  raped  it  with  the  cataleptic  kick 
of  '  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,'  multiplied  by  the  West 
African  significance  of  ■  Everybody's  doing  it,'  plus 
twice  the  infernal  elementality  of  a  certain  tune  in 
Dona  et  Gamma  ;  when  for  all  practical  purposes, 
literary, dramatic,  artistic, social,  municipal,  political, 
commercial,  and  administrative,  the  Earth  was  flat, 
the  Rector  of  Huckley  wrote  to  us — again  as  a 
lover  of  accuracy — to  point  out  that  the  Huckley 
vote  on  '  the  alleged  flatness  of  this  scene  of  our 
labours  here  below '  was  not  unanimous  ;  he  and 
the  doctor  having  voted  against  it.  And  the 
great  Baron  Reuter  himself  (I  am  sure  it  could 
have  been  none  other)  flashed  that  letter  in  full 
to  the  front,  back,  and  both  wings  of  this  scene 
of  our  labours.  For  Huckley  was  News.  The 
Ban  also  contributed  a  photograph  which  cost  me 
some  trouble  to  fake. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     193 

'  We  are  a  vital  nation,'  said  Ollyett  while  we 
were  discussing  affairs  at  a  Bat  dinner.  '  Only  an 
Englishman  could  have  written  that  letter  at  this 
present  juncture.' 

'  It  reminded  me  of  a  tourist  in  the  Cave  of  the 
Winds  under  Niagara.  Just  one  figure  in  a 
mackintosh.  But  perhaps  you  saw  our  photo  ? ' 
I  said  proudly. 

*  Yes,'  Bat  replied.  '  I've  been  to  Niagara,  too. 
And  how's  Huckley  taking  it  ? ' 

'  They  don't  quite  understand,  of  course,'  said 
Ollyett.  '  But  it's  bringing  pots  of  money  into 
the  place.  Ever  since  the  motor-bus  excursions 
were  started ' 

'  I  didn't  know  they  had  been,'  said  Pallant. 

'Oh  yes.  Motor  char-a-bancs — uniformed 
guides  and  key-bugles  included.  They're  getting 
a  bit  fed  up  with  the  tune  there  nowadays,' 
Ollyett  added. 

'  They  play  it  under  his  windows,  don't  they  ?  ' 
Bat  asked.  '  He  can't  stop  the  right  of  way  across 
his  park.' 

'  He  cannot,'  Ollyett  answered.  *  By  the  way, 
Woodhouse,  I've  bought  that  font  for  you  from 
the  sexton.     I  paid  fifteen  pounds  for  it.' 

1  What  am  I  supposed  to  do  with  it  ? '  asked 
Woodhouse. 

'You  give  it  to  the  Victoria  and  Albert  Museum. 
It  is  fourteenth-century  work  all  right.  You  can 
trust  me.' 

'  Is  it  worth  it — now  ?  '  said  Pallant.  '  Not  that 
I'm  weakening,  but  merely  as  a  matter  of  tactics  ? ' 

'  But  this  is  true,'  said  Ollyett.     '  Besides,  it  is 

o 


194     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

my  hobby,  I  always  wanted  to  be  an  architect. 
I'll  attend  to  it  myself.  It's  too  serious  for  The 
Bun  and  miles  too  good  for  The  Cake.' 

He  broke  ground  in  a  ponderous  architectural 
weekly,  which  had  never  heard  of  Huckley.  There 
was  no  passion  in  his  statement,  but  mere  fact 
backed  by  a  wide  range  of  authorities.  He 
established  beyond  doubt  that  the  old  font  at 
Huckley  had  been  thrown  out,  on  Sir  Thomas's 
instigation,  twenty  years  ago,  to  make  room  for  a 
new  one  of  Bath  stone  adorned  with  Limoges 
enamels  ;  and  that  it  had  lain  ever  since  in  a  corner 
of  the  sexton's  shed.  He  proved,  with  learned 
men  to  support  him,  that  there  was  only  one  other 
font  in  all  England  to  compare  with  it.  So 
Woodhouse  bought  it  and  presented  it  to  a  grate- 
ful South  Kensington  which  said  it  would  see  the 
earth  still  flatter  before  it  returned  the  treasure  to 
purblind  Huckley.  Bishops  by  the  benchful  and 
most  of  the  Royal  Academy,  not  to  mention 
'  Margaritas  ante  Porcos,*  wrote  fervently  to  the 
papers.  Punch  based  a  political  cartoon  on  it  ; 
the  Times  a  third  leader,  l  The  Lust  of  Newness  '  ; 
and  the  Spectator  a  scholarly  and  delightful  middle, 
'  Village  Hausmania.'  The  vast  amused  outside 
world  said  in  all  its  tongues  and  types  : '  '  Of 
course  !  This  is  just  what  Huckley  would  do  !  ' 
And  neither  Sir  Thomas  nor  the  Rector  nor  the 
sexton  nor  any  one  else  wrote  to  deny  it. 

'  You  see,'  said  Ollyett,  '  this  is  much  more 
of  a  blow  to  Huckley  than  it  looks — because  every 
word  of  it's  true.  Your  Gubby  dance  was  inspira- 
tion, I  admit,  but  it  hadn't  its  roots  in >' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     195 

1  Two  hemispheres  and  four  continents  so  far,' 
I  pointed  out. 

*  Its  roots  in  the  hearts  of  Huckley  was  what  I 
was  going  to  say.  Why  don't  you  ever  come  down 
and  look  at  the  place  ?  You've  never  seen  it  since 
we  were  stopped  there.' 

1  I've  only  my  week-ends  free,'  I  said,  '  and  you 
seem  to  spend  yours  there  pretty  regularly — with 
the  side-car.     I  was  afraid ' 

'  Oh,  thai 's  all  right,'  he  said  cheerily.  '  We're 
quite  an  old  engaged  couple  now.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  happened  after  "  the  gravid  polled  Angus  " 
business.  Come  along  this  Saturday.  Woodhouse 
says  he'll  run  us  down  after  lunch.  He  wants  to 
see  Huckley  too.' 

Pallant  could  not  accompany  us,  but  Bat  took 
his  place. 

'  It's  odd,'  said  Bat,  '  that  none  of  us  except 
Ollyett  has  ever  set  eyes  on  Huckley  since  that 
time.  That's  what  I  always  tell  My  people.  Local 
colour  is  all  right  after  you've  got  your  idea. 
Before  that,  it's  a  mere  nuisance.'  He  regaled  us 
on  the  way  down  with  panoramic  views  of  the 
success  —  geographical  and  financial  —  of  'The 
Gubby  '  and  The  Song. 

'  By  the  way,'  said  he,  '  I've  assigned  'Dal  all 
the  gramophone  rights  of  "  The  Earth."  She's  a 
born  artist.  'Hadn't  sense  enough  to  hit  me  for 
triple-dubs  the  morning  after.  She'd  have  taken 
it"  out  in  coos.' 

'  Bless  her  !  And  what'll  she  make  out  of  the 
gramophone  rights?  '   1  asked. 

'  Lord  knows  !  '  he  replied.      '  I've  made  fifty- 


196     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

four  thousand  my  little  end  of  the  business,  and 
it's  only  just  beginning.     Hear  that !  ' 

A  shell-pink  motor-brake  roared  up  behind  us 
to  the  music  on  a  key-bugle  of  '  The  Village  that 
Voted  the  Earth  was  Flat.'  In  a  few  minutes  we 
overtook  another,  in  natural  wood,  whose  occupants 
were  singing  it  through  their  noses. 

'  I  don't  know  that  agency.  It  must  be  Cook's,' 
said  Ollyett.  '  They  do  suffer.'  We  were  never 
out  of  ear-shot  of  the  tune  the  rest  of  the  way  to 
Huckley. 

Though  I  knew  it  would  be  so,  I  was  dis- 
appointed with  the  actual  aspect  of  the  spot  we  had 
— it  is  not  too  much  to  say — created  in  the  face 
of  the  nations.  The  alcoholic  pub  ;  the  village 
green  ;  the  Baptist  chapel ;  the  church  ;  the 
sexton's  shed  ;  the  Rectory  whence  the  so- wonder- 
ful letters  had  come  ;  Sir  Thomas's  park  gate- 
pillars  still  violently  declaring  '  The  Earth  is  fiat,' 
were  as  mean,  as  average,  as  ordinary  as  the 
photograph  of  a  room  where  a  murder  has  been 
committed.  Ollyett,  who,  of  course,  knew  the 
place  specially  well,  made  the  most  of  it  to  us. 
Bat,  who  had  employed  it  as  a  back-cloth  to  one 
of  his  own  dramas,  dismissed  it  as  a  thing  used  and 
emptied,  but  Woodhouse  expressed  my  feelings 
when  he  said  :   '  Is  that  all — after  all  we've  done  ? ' 

'  /know,'  said  Ollyett  soothingly.  '  "  Like  that 
strange  song  I  heard  Apollo  sing  :  When  Ilion 
like  a  mist  rose  into  towers."  I've  felt  the  same 
sometimes,  though  it  has  been  Paradise  for  me. 
But  they  do  suffer.' 

The  fourth   brake  in  thirty  minutes  had  just 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     197 

turned  into  Sir  Thomas's  park  to  tell  the  Hall 
that  *  The  Earth  was  flat  '  ;  a  knot  of  obviously 
American  tourists  were  kodaking  his  lodge  gates  ; 
while  the  tea-shop  opposite  the  lych-gate  was  full 
of  people  buying  postcards  of  the  old  font  as  it 
had  lain  twenty  years  in  the  sexton's  shed.  We 
went  to  the  alcoholic  pub  and  congratulated  the 
proprietor. 

*  It's  bringin'  money  to  the  place,'  said  he. 
'  But  in  a  sense  you  can  buy  money  too  dear.  It 
isn't  doin'  us  any  good.  People  are  laughin'  at 
us.  That's  what  they're  doin'.  .  .  .  Now,  with 
regard  to  that  Vote  of  ours  you  may  have  heard 
talk  about.   .   .   .' 

4  For  Gorze  sake,  chuck  that  votin'  business,' 
cried  an  elderly  man  at  the  door.  *  Money-gettin' 
or  no  money-gettin',  we're  fed  up  with  it.' 

'  Well,  I  do  think,'  said  the  publican,  shifting 
his  ground,  '  I  do  think  Sir  Thomas  might  ha' 
managed  better  in  some  things.' 

'  He  tole  me,' — the  elderly  man  shouldered  his 
way  to  the  bar — '  he  tole  me  twenty  years  ago  to 
take  an'  lay  that  font  in  my  tool-shed.  He  tole  me 
so  himself.  An'  now,  after  twenty  years,  me  own 
wife  makin'  me  out  little  better  than  the  common 
'angman  ! ' 

'That's  the  sexton,'  the  publican  explained. 
'  His  good  lady  sells  the  postcards — if  you  'aven't 
got  some.  But  we  feel  Sir  Thomas  might  ha' 
done  better.' 

1  What's  he  got  to  do  with  it  ? '  said  Wood- 
house. 

'  There's  nothin'  we  can  trace  'ome  to  'im  in  so 


198     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

many  words,  but  we  think  he  might  'ave  saved  us 
the  font  business.  Now,  in  regard  to  that  votin' 
business ' 

'  Chuck  it !  Oh,  chuck  it !  '  the  sexton  roared, 
'  or  you'll  'ave  me  cuttin'  my  throat  at  cock-crow. 
'Ere's  another  parcel  of  fun-makers  ! ' 

A  motor-brake  had  pulled  up  at  the  door  and 
a  multitude  of  men  and  women  immediately 
descended.  We  went  cut  to  look.  They  bore 
rolled  banners,  a  reading-desk  in  three  pieces,  and, 
I  specially  noticed,  a  collapsible  harmonium,  such 
as  is  used  on  ships  at  sea. 

'  Salvation  Army  ? '  I  said,  though  I  saw  no 
uniforms. 

Two  of  them  unfurled  a  banner  between  poles 
which  bore  the  legend  :  '  The  Earth  is  flat.' 
Woodhouse  and  I  turned  to  Bat.  He  shook  his 
head.  '  No,  no  !  Not  me.  ...  If  I  had  only 
seen  their  costumes  in  advance  !  ' 

*  Good  Lord  !  '  said  Ollyett.  '  It's  the  genuine 
Society ! ' 

The  company  advanced  on  the  green  with  the 
precision  of  people  well  broke  to  these  movements. 
Scene-shifters  could  not  have  been  quicker  with 
the  three-piece  rostrum,  nor  stewards  with  the 
harmonium.  Almost  before  its  cross-legs  "  had 
been  kicked  into  their  catches,  certainly  before  the 
tourists  by  the  lodge-gates  had  begun  to  move  over, 
a  woman  sat  down  to  it  and  struck  up  a  hymn  : 

Hear  ther  truth  our  tongues  are  telling, 
Spread  ther  light  from  shore  to  shore, 

God  hath  given  man  a  dwelling 
Flat  and  flat  for  evermore. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     199 

When  ther  Primal  Dark  retreated, 

When  ther  deeps  were  undesigned, 
He  with  rule  and  level  meted 
Habitation  for  mankind  ! 

I  saw  sick  envy  on  Bat's  face.  '  Curse  Nature,' 
he  muttered.  '  She  gets  ahead  of  you  every  time. 
To  think  /  forgot  hymns  and  a  harmonium  ! ' 

Then  came  the  chorus  : 

Hear  ther  truth  our  tongues  are  telling, 
Spread  ther  light  from  shore  to  shore — 

Oh,  be  faithful  !      Oh,  be  truthful  ! 
Earth  is  flat  for  evermore. 

They  sang  several  verses  with  the  fervour  of 
Christians  awaiting  their  lions.  Then  there  were 
growlings  in  the  air.  The  sexton,  embraced  by 
the  landlord,  two-stepped  out  of  the  pub-door. 
Each  was  trying  to  outroar  the  other.  '  Apologis- 
ing in  advarnce  for  what  he  says,'  the  landlord 
shouted  :  '  You'd  better  go  away  '  (here  the  sexton 
began  to  speak  words).  *  This  isn't  the  time  nor 
yet  the  place  for — for  any  more  o'  this  chat.' 

The  crowd  thickened.  I  saw  the  village  police- 
sergeant  come  out  of  his  cottage  buckling  his 
belt. 

'  But  surely,'  said  the  woman  at  the  harmonium, 
'  there  must  be  some  mistake.  We  are  not  suffra- 
gettes.' 

'  Damn  it !  They'd  be  a  change,'  cried  the 
sexton.  *  You  get  out  of  this  !  Don't  talk  !  I 
can't  stand  it  for  one  !  Get  right  out,  or  we'll 
font  you  ! ' 

The  crowd  which  was  being  recruited  from 
every  house  in  sight  echoed  the  invitation.     The 


200     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

sergeant  pushed  forward.  A  man  beside  the 
reading-desk  said  :  *  But  surely  we  are  among 
dear  friends  and  sympathisers.  Listen  to  me  for 
a  moment.' 

It  was  the  moment  that  a  passing  char-a-banc 
chose  to  strike  into  The  Song.  The  effect  was 
instantaneous.  Bat,  Ollyett,  and  I,  who  by  divers 
roads  have  learned  the  psychology  of  crowds, 
retreated  towards  the  tavern  door.  Woodhouse, 
the  newspaper  proprietor,  anxious,  I  presume,  to 
keep  touch  with  the  public,  dived  into  the  thick  of 
it.  Every  one  else  told  the  Society  to  go  away  at 
once.  When  the  lady  at  the  harmonium  (I  began 
to  understand  why  it  is  sometimes  necessary  to 
kill  women)  pointed  at  the  stencilled  park  pillars 
and  called  them  '  the  cromlechs  of  our  common 
faith,'  there  was  a  snarl  and  a  rush.  The  police- 
sergeant  checked  it,  but  advised  the  Society  to 
keep  on  going.  The  Society  withdrew  into  the 
brake  fighting,  as  it  were,  a  rearguard  action  of 
oratory  up  each  step.  The  collapsed  harmonium 
was  hauled  in  last,  and  with  the  perfect  unreason 
of  crowds,  they  cheered  it  loudly,  till  the  chauffeur 
slipped  in  his  clutch  and  sped  away.  Then  the 
crowd  broke  up,  congratulating  all  concerned 
except  the  sexton,  who  was  held  to  have  disgraced 
his  office  by  having  sworn  at  ladies.  We  strolled 
across  the  green  towards  Woodhouse,  who  was 
talking  to  the  police-sergeant  near  the  park-gates. 
We  were  not  twenty  yards  from  him  when  we 
saw  Sir  Thomas  Ingell  emerge  from  the  lodge  and 
rush  furiously  at  Woodhouse  with  an  uplifted 
stick,  at  the  same  time  shrieking  :   '  I'll  teach  you 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     201 

to  laugh,  you '  but  Ollyett  has  the  record  of 

the  language.  By  the  time  we  reached  them,  Sir 
Thomas  was  on  the  ground ;  Woodhouse,  very 
white,  held  the  walking-stick  and  was  saying  to 
the  sergeant  : 

'  I  give  this  person  in  charge  for  assault.' 

'  But,  good  Lord ! '  said  the  sergeant,  whiter 
than  Woodhouse.      '  It's  Sir  Thomas.' 

'  Whoever  it  is,  it  isn't  fit  to  be  at  large,'  said 
Woodhouse.  The  crowd  suspecting  something 
wrong  began  to  reassemble,  and  all  the  English 
horror  of  a  row  in  public  moved  us,  headed  by 
the  sergeant,  inside  the  lodge.  We  shut  both 
park-gates  and  lodge-door. 

'  You  saw  the  assault,  sergeant,'  Woodhouse 
went  on.  '  You  can  testify  I  used  no  more  force 
than  was  necessary  to  protect  myself.  You  can 
testify  that  I  have  not  even  damaged  this  person's 
property.  (Here  !  take  your  stick,  you  !)  You 
heard  the  filthy  language  he  used.' 

'  I — I  can't  say  I  did,'  the  sergeant  stammered. 

'  Oh,  but  we  did  ! '  said  Ollyett,  and  repeated 
it,  to  the  apron-veiled  horror  of  the  lodge-keeper's 
wife. 

Sir  Thomas  on  a  hard  kitchen  chair  began  to 
talk.  He  said  he  had  '  stood  enough  of  being 
photographed  like  a  wild  beast,'  and  expressed 
loud  regret  that  he  had  not  killed  '  that  man,'  who 
was  '  conspiring  with  the  sergeant  to  laugh  at  him.' 

'  'Ad  you  ever  seen  'im  before,  Sir  Thomas  ? ' 
the  sergeant  asked. 

1  No !  But  it's  time  an  example  was  made 
here.     I've  never  seen  the  sweep  in  my  life.' 


202     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

I  think  it  was  Bat  Masquerier's  magnetic  eye 
that  recalled  the  past  to  him,  for  his  face  changed 
and  his  jaw  dropped.  *  But  I  have  !  '  he  groaned. 
'  I  remember  now.' 

Here  a  writhing  man  entered  by  the  back 
door.  He  was,  he  said,  the  village  solicitor.  I  do 
not  assert  that  he  licked  Woodhouse's  boots,  but 
we  should  have  respected  him  more  if  he  had  and 
been  done  with  it.  His  notion  was  that  the 
matter  could  be  accommodated,  arranged  and  com- 
promised for  gold,  and  yet  more  gold.  The  ser- 
geant thought  so  too.  Woodhouse  undeceived 
them  both.  To  the  sergeant  he  said,  *  Will  you 
or  will  you  not  enter  the  charge  ? '  To  the  village 
solicitor  he  gave  the  name  of  his  lawyers,  at  which 
the  man  wrung  his  hands  and  cried,  '  Oh,  Sir  T., 
Sir  T. ! '  in  a  miserable  falsetto,  for  it  was  a  Bat 
Masquerier  of  a  firm.  They  conferred  together 
in  tragic  whispers. 

*  I  don't  dive  after  Dickens,'  said  Ollyett  to  Bat 
and  me  by  the  window,  *  but  every  time  /  get  into 
a  row  I  notice  the  police-court  always  fills  up 
with  his  characters.' 

'  I've  noticed  that  too,'  said  Bat.  '  But  the  odd 
thing  is  you  mustn't  give  the  public  straight 
Dickens — not  in  My  business.  I  wonder  why 
that  is.' 

Then  Sir  Thomas  got  his  second  wind  and 
cursed  the  day  that  he,  or  it  may  have  been  we, 
were  born.  I  feared  that  though  he  was  a  Radical 
he  might  apologise  and,  since  he  was  an  M.P., 
might  lie  his  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  But  he 
was    utterly  and    truthfully  beside    himself.     He 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     203 

asked  foolish  questions — such  as  what  we  were 
doing  in  the  village  at  all,  and  how  much  black- 
mail Woodhouse  expected  to  make  out  of  him. 
But  neither  Woodhouse  nor  the  sergeant  nor  the 
writhing  solicitor  listened.  The  upshot  of  their 
talk,  in  the  chimney-corner,  was  that  Sir  Thomas 
stood  engaged  to  appear  next  Monday  before  his 
brother  magistrates  on  charges  of  assault,  disorderly 
conduct,  and  language  calculated,  etc.  Ollyett  was 
specially  careful  about  the  language. 

Then  we  left.  The  village  looked  very  pretty 
in  the  late  light — pretty  and  tuneful  as  a  nest  of 
nightingales. 

'  You'll  turn  up  on  Monday,  I  hope,'  said 
Woodhouse,  when  we  reached  town.  That  was 
his  only  allusion  to  the  affair. 

So  we  turned  up — through  a  world  still  singing 
that  the  Earth  was  flat — at  the  little  clay-coloured 
market-town  with  the  large  Corn  Exchange  and  the 
small  Jubilee  memorial.  We  had  some  difficulty 
in  getting  seats  in  the  court.  Woodhouse's  im- 
ported London  lawyer  was  a  man  of  commanding 
personality,  with  a  voice  trained  to  convey  blasting 
imputations  by  tone.  When  the  case  was  called, 
he  rose  and  stated  his  client's  intention  not  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  charge.  His  client,  he  went  on  to 
say,  had  not  entertained,  and,  of  course,  in  the  cir- 
cumstances could  not  have  entertained,  any  sugges- 
tion of  accepting  on  behalf  of  public  charities  any 
moneys  that  might  have  been  offered  to  him  on 
the  part  of  Sir  Thomas's  estate.  At  the  same  time, 
no  one  acknowledged  more  sincerely  than  his  client 
the  spirit  in  which  those  offers  had  been  made  by 


2o4     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

those  entitled  to  make  them.  But,  as  a  matter 
of  fact — here  he  became  the  man  of  the  world 
colloguing  with  his  equals — certain — er — details 
had  come  to  his  client's  knowledge  since  the  lament- 
able outburst,  which  .  .  .  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Nothing  was  served  by  going  into  them,  but  he 
ventured  to  say  that,  had  those  painful  circum- 
stances only  been  known  earlier,  his  client  would — 

again  '  of  course  ' — never  have  dreamed A 

gesture  concluded  the  sentence,  and  the  ensnared 
Bench  looked  at  Sir  Thomas  with  new  and  with- 
drawing eyes.  Frankly,  as  they  could  see,  it 
would  be  nothing  less  than  cruelty  to  proceed 
further  with  this — er — unfortunate  affair.  He 
asked  leave,  therefore,  to  withdraw  the  charge  in 
toto,  and  at  the  same  time  to  express  his  client's 
deepest  sympathy  with  all  who  had  been  in  any 
way  distressed,  as  his  client  had  been,  by  the  fact 
and  the  publicity  of  proceedings  which  he  could, 
of  course,  again  assure  them  that  his  client  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  instituting  if,  as  he  hoped 
he  had  made  plain,  certain  facts  had  been  before 
his  client  at  the  time  when  .  .  .  But  he  had  said 
enough.     For  his  fee  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  had. 

Heaven  inspired  Sir  Thomas's  lawyer — all  of  a 
sweat  lest  his  client's  language  should  come  out — 
to  rise  up  and  thank  him.  Then,  Sir  Thomas — 
not  yet  aware  what  leprosy  had  been  laid  upon 
him,  but  grateful  to  escape  on  any  terms — followed 
suit.  He  was  heard  in  interested  silence,  and 
people  drew  back  a  pace  as  Gehazi  passed  forth. 

'  You  hit  hard,'  said  Bat  to  Woodhouse  after- 
wards.    *  His  own  people  think  he's  mad.' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     205 

1  You  don't  say  so  ?  I'll  show  you  some  of  his 
letters  to-night  at  dinner,'  he  replied. 

He  brought  them  to  the  Red  Amber  Room  of 
the  Chop  Suey.  We  forgot  to  be  amazed,  as  till 
then  we  had  been  amazed,  over  the  Song  or  '  The 
Gubby,'  or  the  full  tide  of  Fate  that  seemed  to 
run  only  for  our  sakes.  It  did  not  even  interest 
Ollyett  that  the  verb  '  to  huckle '  had  passed  into 
the  English  leader-writers'  language.  We  were 
studying  the  interior  of  a  soul,  flash-lighted  to  its 
grimiest  corners  by  the  dread  of  '  losing  its 
position.' 

'  And  then  it  thanked  you,  didn't  it,  for  drop- 
ping the  case  ?  '  said  Pallant. 

'Yes,  and  it  sent  me  a  telegram  to  confirm.' 
Woodhouse  turned  to  Bat.  '  Now  d'you  think  I 
hit  too  hard  ? '  he  asked. 

'  No — o  ! '  said  Bat.  '  After  all — I'm  talking 
of  every  one's  business  now — one  can't  ever  do 
anything  in  Art  that  comes  up  to  Nature  in  any 
game  in  life.     Just  think  how  this  thing  has ' 

'Just  let  me  run  through  that  little  case  of 
yours  again,'  said  Pallant,  and  picked  up  The  Bun 
which  had  it  set  out  in  full. 

'  Any  chance  of  'Dal  looking  in  on  us  to-night  r ' 
Ollyett  began. 

'  She's  occupied  with  her  Art  too,'  Bat  answered 
bitterly.  '  What's  the  use  of  Art  ?  Tell  me, 
some  one  ! '  A  barrel-org?n  outside  promptly 
pointed  out  that  the  Earth  was  flat.  '  The  gramo- 
phone's killing  street  organs,  but  J  let  loose  a 
hundred-and-seventy-four  of  those  hurdygurdys 
twelve   hours  after  The   Song,'  said   Bat.      '  Not 


206     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

counting  the  Provinces.'     His  face  brightened  a 
little. 

*  Look  here  ! '  said  Pallant  over  the  paper. 
'  I  don't  suppose  you  or  those  asinine  J.P.'s  knew 
it — but  your  lawyer  ought  to  have  known  that 
you've  all  put  your  foot  in  it  most  confoundedly 
over  this  assault  case.' 

*  What's  the  matter  ? '  said  Woodhouse. 

*  It's  ludicrous.  It's  insane.  There  isn't  two 
penn'orth  of  legality  in  the  whole  thing.  Of 
course,  you  could  have  withdrawn  the  charge,  but 
the  way  you  went  about  it  is  childish — besides 
being  illegal.  What  on  earth  was  the  Chief 
Constable  thinking  of  ? ' 

'  Oh,  he  was  a  friend  of  Sir  Thomas's.  They 
all  were  for  that  matter,'  I  replied. 

'  He  ought  to  be  hanged.  So  ought  the  Chair- 
man of  the  Bench.     I'm  talking  as  a  lawyer  now.' 

*  Why,  what  have  we  been  guilty  of?  Mis- 
prision of  treason  or  compounding  a  felony — or 
what  ?  '  said  Ollyett. 

*  I'll  tell  you  later.'  Pallant  went  back  to  the 
paper  with  knitted  brows,  smiling  unpleasantly 
from  time  to  time.     At  last  he  laughed. 

'  Thank  you  ! '  he  said  to  Woodhouse.  '  It 
ought  to  be  pretty  useful — for  us.' 

'  What  d'you  mean  ?  '  said  Ollyett. 

4  For  our  side.  They  are  all  Rads  who  are 
mixed  up  in  this — from  the  Chief  Constable  down. 
There  must  be  a  Question.  There  must  be  a 
Question.' 

'Yes,  but  I  wanted  the  charge  withdrawn  in 
my  own  way,'  Woodhouse  insisted. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     207 

'  That's  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  It's  the 
legality  of  your  silly  methods.  You  wouldn't 
understand  if  I  talked  till  morning.'  He  began 
to  pace  the  room,  his  hands  behind  him.  *  I 
wonder  if  I  can  get  it  through  our  Whip's  thick 
head  that  it's  a  chance.  .  .  .  That  comes  of  stuffing 
the  Bench  with  radical  tinkers,'  he  muttered. 

*  Oh,  sit  down  ! '  said  Woodhouse. 

'  Where's  your  lawyer  to  be  found  now  ? '  he 
jerked  out. 

'  At  the  Trefoil,'  said  Bat  promptly.  '  I  gave 
him  the  stage-box  for  to-night.  He's  an  artist 
too.' 

'  Then  I'm  going  to  see  him,'  said  Pallant. 
'  Properly  handled  this  ought  to  be  a  godsend  for 
our  side.'     He  withdrew  without  apology. 

1  Certainly,  this  thing  keeps  on  opening  up, 
and  up,'  I  remarked  inanely. 

*  It's  beyond  me  ! '  said  Bat.  <  I  don't  think  if 
I'd  known  I'd  have  ever  .  .  .  Yes,  I  would, 
though.     He  said  my  home  address  was ' 

'  It  was  his  tone — his  tone  ! '  Ollyett  almost 
shouted.  Woodhouse  said  nothing,  but  his  face 
whitened  as  he  brooded. 

*  Well,  any  way,'  Bat  went  on,  '  I'm  glad  I 
always  believed  in  God  and  Providence  and  all 
those  things.  Else  I  should  lose  my  nerve. 
We've  put  it  over  the  whole  world — the  full 
extent  of  the  geographical  globe.  We  couldn't 
stop  it  if  we  wanted  to  now.  It's  got  to  burn 
itself  out.  I'm  not  in  charge  any  more.  What 
d'you  expect  'Jl  happen  next.     Angels  ?  ' 

I  expected  nothing.     Nothing  that  I  expected 


208     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

approached  what  I  got.  Politics  are  not  my 
concern,  but,  for  the  moment,  since  it  seemed 
that  they  were  going  to  '  huckle '  with  the  rest,  I 
took  an  interest  in  them.  They  impressed  me  as 
a  dog's  life  without  a  dog's  decencies,  and  I  was 
confirmed  in  this  when  an  unshaven  and  unwashen 
Pallant  called  on  me  at  ten  o'clock  one  morning, 
begging  for  a  bath  and  a  couch. 

'  Bail  too  ? '  I  asked.  He  was  in  evening 
dress  and  his  eyes  were  sunk  feet  in  his  head. 

'  No,'  he  said  hoarsely.  '  All  night  sitting. 
Fifteen  divisions.     'Nother  to-night.     Your  place 

was  nearer  than  mine,  so '  He  began  to  undress 

in  the  hall. 

When  he  awoke  at  one  o'clock  he  gave  me 
lurid  accounts  of  what  he  said  was  history,  but 
which  was  obviously  collective  hysteria.  There 
had  been  a  political  crisis.  He  and  his  fellow 
M.P.'s  had  '  done  things ' — I  never  quite  got  at 
the  things — for  eighteen  hours  on  end,  and  the 
pitiless  Whips  were  even  then  at  the  telephones 
to  herd  'em  up  to  another  dog-fight.  So  he 
snorted  and  grew  hot  all  over  again  while  he 
might  have  been  resting. 

'  I'm  going  to  pitch  in  my  question  about  that 
miscarriage  of  justice  at  Huckley  this  afternoon, 
if  you  care  to  listen  to  it,'  he  said.  'It'll  be 
absolutely  thrown  away — in  our  present  state. 
I  told  'em  so  ;  but  it's  my  only  chance  for  weeks. 
P'raps  Woodhouse  would  like  to  come.' 

'I'm  sure  he  would.  Anything  to  do  with 
Huckley  interests  us,'  I  said. 

'  It'll   miss   fire,   I'm   afraid.      Both    sides    are 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     209 

absolutely  cooked.  The  present  situation  has 
been  working  up  for  some  time.  You  see  the 
row  was  bound  to  come,  etc.  etc.,'  and  he  flew  off" 
the  handle  once  more. 

I  telephoned  to  Woodhouse,  and  we  went  to 
the  House  together.  It  was  a  dull,  sticky  after- 
noon with  thunder  in  the  air.  For  some  reason 
or  other,  each  side  was  determined  to  prove  its 
virtue  and  endurance  to  the  utmost.  I  heard 
men  snarling  about  it  all  round  me.  '  If  they 
won't  spare  us,  we'll  show  'em  no  mercy.'  '  Break 
the  brutes  up  from  the  start.  They  can't  stand 
late  hours.'  '  Come  on  !  No  shirking  !  I  know 
youvo,  had  a  Turkish  bath,'  were  some  of  the 
sentences  I  caught  on  our  way.  The  House  was 
packed  already,  and  one  could  feel  the  negative 
electricity  of  a  jaded  crowd  wrenching  at  one's 
own  nerves,  and  depressing  the  afternoon  soul. 

*  This  is  bad ! '  Woodhouse  whispered.  'There'll 
be  a  row  before  they've  finished.  Look  at  the 
Front  Benches  ! '  And  he  pointed  out  little 
personal  signs  by  which  I  was  to  know  that  each 
man  was  on  edge.  He  might  have  spared  himself. 
The  House  was  ready  to  snap  before  a  bone  had 
been  thrown.  A  sullen  minister  rose  to  reply  to 
a  staccato  question.  His  supporters  cheered 
defiantly.  c  None  o'  that !  None  o'  that !  '  came 
from  the  Back  Benches.  I  saw  the  Speaker's  face 
stiffen  like  the  face  of  a  helmsman  as  he  humours 
a  hard-mouthed  yacht  after  a  sudden  following 
sea.  The  trouble  was  barely  met  in  time.  There 
came  a  fresh,  apparently  causeless  gust  a  few 
minutes   later  —  savage,    threatening,    but    futile. 

p 


210     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

It  died  out  —  one  could  hear  the  sigh  —  in 
sudden  wrathful  realisation  of  the  dreary  hours 
ahead,  and  the  ship  of  state  drifted  on. 

Then  Pallant — and  the  raw  House  winced  at 
the  torture  of  his  voice — rose.  It  was  a  twenty- 
line  question,  studded  with  legal  technicalities. 
The  gist  of  it  was  that  he  wished  to  know  whether 
the  appropriate  Minister  was  aware  that  there  had 
been  a  grave  miscarriage  of  justice  on  such  and 
such  a  date,  at  such  and  such  a  place,  before  such 
and  such  justices  of  the  peace,  in  regard  to  a  case 
which  arose 

I  heard  one  desperate,  weary  '  damn  i  '  float  up 
from  the  pit  of  that  torment.  Pallant  sawed  on 
— '  out  of  certain  events  which  occurred  at  the 
village  of  Huckley.' 

The  House  came  to  attention  with  a  parting  of 
the  lips  like  a  hiccough,  and  it  flashed  through  my 
mind.  .  .  .  Pallant  repeated,  '  Huckley.  The 
village ' 

c  That  voted  the  Earth  was  flat.'  A  single 
voice  from  a  back  Bench  sang  it  once  like  a 
lone  frog  in  a  far  pool. 

*  Earth  was  flat,'  croaked  another  voice 
opposite. 

'  Earth  was  flat.'  There  were  several.  Then 
several  more. 

It  was,  you  understand,  the  collective,  over- 
strained nerve  of  the  House,  snapping,  strand  by 
strand  to  various  notes,  as  the  hawser  parts  from 
its  moorings. 

'  The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat.' 
The  tune   was  beginning  to    shape  itself.      More 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     211 

voices  were  raised  and  feet  began  to  beat  time. 
Even  so  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  the  thing 
would 

*  The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat ! ' 
It  was  easier  now  to  see  who  were  not  singing. 
There  were  still  a  few.  Of  a  sudden  (and  this 
proves  the  fundamental  instability  of  the  cross- 
bench  mind)  a  cross-bencher  leaped  on  his  seat  and 
there  played  an  imaginary  double-bass  with  tremen- 
dous maestro-like  wagglings  of  the  elbow. 

The  last  strand  parted.  The  ship  of  state 
drifted  out  helpless  on  the  rocking  tide  of  melody. 

'  The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat  ! 
The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat  ! ' 

The  Irish  first  conceived  the  idea  of  using  their 
order-papers  as  funnels  wherewith  to  reach  the 
correct  '  vroom — vroom  '  on  '  Earth.1  Labour, 
always  conservative  and  respectable  at  a  crisis, 
stood  out  longer  than  any  other  section,  but  when 
it  came  in  it  was  howling  syndicalism.  Then,  with- 
out distinction  of  Party,  fear  of  constituents, 
desire  for  office,  or  hope  of  emolument,  the  House 
sang  at  the  tops  and  at  the  bottoms  of  their  voices, 
swaying  their  stale  bodies  and  epileptically  beating 
with  their  swelled  feet.  They  sang  '  The  Village 
that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat '  :  first,  because  they 
wanted  to,  and  secondly — which  is  the  terror  of 
that  song — because  they  could  not  stop.  For  no 
consideration  could  they  stop. 

Pallant  was  still  standing  up.  Some  one  pointed 
at  him  and  they  laughed.  Others  began  to  point, 
lunging,  as   it  were,  in  time  with  the  tune.     At 


212     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

this  moment  two  persons  came  in  practically 
abreast  from  behind  the  Speaker's  chair,  and  halted 
appalled.  One  happened  to  be  the  Prime  Minister 
and  the  other  a  messenger.  The  House,  with  tears 
running  down  their  cheeks,  transferred  their  at- 
tention to  the  paralysed  couple.  They  pointed 
six  hundred  forefingers  at  them.  They  rocked, 
they  waved,  and  they  rolled  while  they  pointed, 
but  still  they  sang*,  When  they  weakened  for  an 
instant,  Ireland  would  yell :  4  Are  ye  with  me, 
bhoys  ? '  and  they  all  renewed  their  strength  like 
Antaeus.  No  man  could  say  afterwards  what 
happened  in  the  Press  or  the  Strangers'  Gallery. 
It  was  the  House,  the  hysterical  and  abandoned 
House  of  Commons  that  held  all  eyes,  as  it 
deafened  all  ears.  I  saw  both  Front  Benches  bend 
forward,  some  with  their  foreheads  on  their 
despatch-boxes,  the  rest  with  their  faces  in  their 
hands  ;  and  their  moving  shoulders  jolted  the 
House  out  of  its  last  rag  of  decency.  Only  the 
Speaker  remained  unmoved.  The  entire  press  of 
Great  Britain  bore  witness  next  day  that  he  had 
not  even  bowed  his  head.  The  Angel  of  the 
Constitution,  for  vain  was  the  help  of  man,  fore- 
told him  the  exact  moment  at  which  the  House 
would  have  broken  into  '  The  Gubby.'  He  is  re- 
ported to  have  said  :  '  I  heard  the  Irish  beginning 
to  shuffle  it.  So  I  adjourned.'  Pallant's  version 
is  that  he  added  :  '  And  I  was  never  so  grateful 
to  a  private  member  in  all  my  life  as  I  was  to  Mr. 
Pallant.' 

He  made  no  explanation.     He  did  not  refer  to 
orders  or    disorders.     He    simply  adjourned    the 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED     213 

House  till  six  that  evening.     And  the  House  ad- 
journed— some  of  it  nearly  on  all  fours. 

I  was  not  correct  when  I  said  that  the  Speaker 
was  the  only  man  who  did  not  laugh.  Wood- 
house  was  beside  me  all  the  time.  His  face  was 
set  and  quite  white — as  white,  they  told  me,  as 
Sir  Thomas  Ingell's  when  he  went,  by  request,  to 
a  private  interview  with  his  Chief  Whip. 


THE  PRESS 

'The  Soldier  may  forget  his  sword, 

The  Sailorman  the  sea, 
The  Mason  may  forget  the  Word 

And  the  Priest  his  litany  : 
The  maid  may  forget  both  jewel  and  gem, 

And  the  bride  her  wedding-dress — 
But  the  Jew  shall  forget  Jerusalem 

Ere  we  forget  the  Press ! 

Who  once  hath  stood  through  the  loaded  hour 

Ere,  roaring  like  the  gale, 
The  Harrild  and  the  Hoe  devour 

Their  league-long  paper  bale, 
And  has  lit  his  pipe  in  the  morning  calm 

That  follows  the  midnight  stress — 
He  hath  sold  his  heart  to  the  old  Black  Art 

We  call  the  daily  Press. 

Who  once  hath  dealt  in  the  widest  game 

That  all  of  a  man  can  play, 
No  later  love,  no  larger  fame 

Will  lure  him  long  away. 

214 


THE  PRESS  215 

As  the  war-horse  smelleth  the  battle  afar, 

The  entered  Soul,  no  less, 
He  saith  :   '  Ha  !  Ha  ! '  where  the  trumpets  are 

And  the  thunders  of  the  Press. 

Canst  thou  number  the  days  that  we  fulfil, 

Or  the  Times  that  we  bring  forth  ? 
Canst  thou  send  the  lightnings  to  do  thy  will, 

And  cause  them  reign  on  earth  ? 
Hast  thou  given  a  peacock  goodly  wings 

To  please  his  foolishness  ? 
Sit  down  at  the  heart  of  men  and  things, 

Companion  of  the  Press  ! 

The  Pope  may  launch  his  Interdict, 

The  Union  its  decree, 
But  the  bubble  is  blown  and  the  bubble  is  pricked 

By  Us  and  such  as  We. 
Remember  the  battle  and  stand  aside 

While  Thrones  and  Powers  confess 
That  King  over  all  the  children  of  pride 

Is  the  Press — the  Press — the  Press  ! 


In  the  Presence 

(1912) 

1  So  the  matter,  the  Regimental  Chaplain  con- 
cluded, '  was  correct  ;  in  every  way  correct.  I  am 
well  pleased  with  Rutton  Singh  and  Attar  Singh. 
They  have  gathered  the  fruit  of  their  lives.' 

He  folded  his  arms  and  sat  down  on  the 
verandah.  The  hot  day  had  ended,  and  there 
was  a  pleasant  smell  of  cooking  along  the  regi- 
mental lines,  where  half-clad  men  went  back  and 
forth  with  leaf  platters  and  water-goglets.  The 
Subadar-Major,  in  extreme  undress,  sat  on  a  chair, 
as  befitted  his  rank  ;  the  Havildar  -  Major,  his 
nephew,  leaning  respectfully  against  the  wall. 
The  Regiment  was  at  home  and  at  ease  in  its 
own  quarters  in  its  own  district  which  takes  its 
name  from  the  great  Muhammadan  saint  Mian 
Mir,  revered  by  Jehangir  and  beloved  by  Guru 
Har  Gobind,  sixth  of  the  great  Sikh  Gurus. 

'  Quite  correct,'  the  Regimental  Chaplain 
repeated. 

No  Sikh  contradicts  his  Regimental  Chaplain 
who   expounds  to  him  the    Holy   Book   of  the 

217 


218     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Grunth  Sahib  and  who  knows  the  lives  and  legends 
of  all  the  Gurus. 

The  Subadar-Major  bowed  his  grey  head.  The 
Havildar- Major  coughed  respectfully  to  attract 
attention  and  to  ask  leave  to  speak.  Though  he 
was  the  Subadar-Major's  nephew,  and  though  his 
father  held  twice  as  much  land  as  his  uncle,  he 
knew  his  place  in  the  scheme  of  things.  The 
Subadar-Major  shifted  one  hand  with  an  iron 
bracelet  on  the  wrist. 

*  Was  there  by  any  chance  any  woman  at  the 
back  of  it  ?' the  Havildar-Major  murmured.  'I 
was  not  here  when  the  thing  happened.' 

*  Yes !  Yes  !  Yes !  We  all  know  that  thou 
wast  in  England  eating  and  drinking  with  the 
Sahibs.  We  are  all  surprised  that  thou  canst 
still  speak  Punjabi.'  The  Subadar-Major's  care- 
fully-tended beard  bristled. 

'  There  was  no  woman,'  the  Regimental  Chap- 
lain growled.  '  It  was  land.  Hear,  you  !  Rutton 
Singh  and  Attar  Singh  were  the  elder  of  four 
brothers.  These  four  held  land  in — what  was 
the  village's  name  ? — oh,  Pishapur,  near  Thori, 
in  the  Banalu  Tehsil  of  Patiala  State,  where  men 
can  still  recognise  right  behaviour  when  they  see 
it.  The  two  younger  brothers  tilled  the  land, 
while  Rutton  Singh  and  Attar  Singh  took  service 
with  the  Regiment,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  family.' 

*  True,  true,'  said  the  Havildar-Major.  '  There 
is  the  same  arrangement  in  all  good  families.' 

'  Then,  listen  again,'  the  Regimental  Chaplain 
went  on.      '  Their  kin  on  their  mother's  side  put 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  219 

great  oppression  and  injustice  upon  the  two 
younger  brothers  who  stayed  with  the  land  in 
Patiala  State.  Their  mother's  kin  loosened  beasts 
into  the  four  brothers'  crops  when  the  crops  were 
green  ;  they  cut  the  corn  by  force  when  it  was 
ripe  ;  they  broke  down  the  water-courses  ;  they 
denied  the  wells  ;  and  they  brought  false  charges 
in  the  law-courts  against  all  four  brothers.  They 
did  not  spare  even  the  cotton -seed,  as  the 
saying  is. 

'Their  mother's  kin  trusted  that  the  young 
men  would  thus  be  forced  by  weight  of  trouble, 
and  further  trouble  and  perpetual  trouble,  to  quit 
their  lands  in  Pishapur  village  in  Banalu  Tehsil  in 
Patiala  State.  If  the  young  men  ran  away,  the" 
land  would  come  whole  to  their  mother's  kin. 
I  am  not  a  regimental  schoolmaster,  but  is  it 
understood,  child  ? ' 

1  Understood,'  said  the  Havildar-Major  grimly. 
'  Pishapur  is  not  the  only  place  where  the  fence 
eats  the  field  instead  of  protecting  it.  But  perhaps 
there  was  a  woman  among  their  mother's  kin  ?  ' 

*  God  knows  !  '  said  the  Regimental  Chaplain. 
1  Woman,  or  man,  or  law-courts,  the  young  men 
would  not  be  driven  off  the  land  which  was  their 
own  by  inheritance.  They  made  appeal  to  Rutton 
Singh  and  Attar  Singh,  their  brethren  who  had 
taken  service  with  us  in  the  Regiment,  and  so 
knew  the  world,  to  help  them  in  their  long  war 
against  their  mother's  kin  in  Pishapur.  For  that 
reason,  because  their  own  land  and  the  honour  of 
their  house  was  dear  to  them,  Rutton  Singh  and 
Attar  Singh  needs  must  very  often  ask  for  leave 


220     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

to  go  to  Patiala  and  attend  to  the  lawsuits  and 
cattle-poundings  there. 

'  It  was  not,  look  you,  as  though  they  went 
back  to  their  own  village  and  sat,  garlanded  with 
jasmine,  in  honour,  upon  chairs  before  the  elders 
under  the  trees.  They  went  back  always  to 
perpetual  trouble,  either  of  lawsuits,  or  theft,  or 
strayed  cattle  ;  and  they  sat  on  thorns.' 

'  I  knew  it,'  said  the  Subadar-Major.  '  Life 
was  bitter  for  them  both.  But  they  were  well- 
conducted  men.  It  was  not  hard  to  get  them 
their  leave  from  the  Colonel  Sahib.' 

1  They  spoke  to  me  also,'  said  the  Chaplain. 
"  Let  him  who  desires  the  four  great  gifts  apply 
himself  to  the  words  of  holy  men."  That  is  written. 
Often  they  showed  me  the  papers  of  the  false 
lawsuits  brought  against  them.  Often  they  wept 
on  account  of  the  persecution  put  upon  them  by 
their  mother's  kin.  Men  thought  it  was  drugs 
when  their  eyes  showed  red.' 

'  They  wept  in  my  presence  too,'  said  the 
Subadar-Major.  '  Well-conducted  men  of  nine 
years'  service  apiece.  Rutton  Singh  was  drill— 
Naik,  too.' 

'They  did  all  things  correctly  as  Sikhs  should,' 
said  the  Regimental  Chaplain.  '  When  the  per- 
secution had  endured  seven  years,  Attar  Singh 
took  leave  to  Pishapur  once  again  (that  was  the 
fourth  time  in  that  year  only)  and  he  called  his 
persecutors  together  before  the  village  elders,  and 
he  cast  his  turban  at  their  feet  and  besought  them 
by  his  mother's  blood  to  cease  from  their  persecu- 
tions.    For  he  told  them  earnestly   that  he  had 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  221 

marched  to  the   boundaries   of  his  patience,  and 
that  there  could  be  but  one  end  to  the  matter. 

'  They  gave  him  abuse.  They  mocked  him 
and  his  tears,  which  was  the  same  as  though  they 
had  mocked  the  Regiment.  Then  Attar  Singh 
returned  to  the  Regiment,  and  laid  this  last  trouble 
before  Rutton  Singh,  the  eldest  brother.  But 
Rutton  Singh  could  not  get  leave  all  at  once.' 

*  Because  he  was  drill-Naik  and  the  recruits 
were  to  be  drilled.  I  myself  told  him  so,'  said  the 
Subadar-Major.  '  He  was  a  well-conducted  man. 
He  said  he  could  wait.' 

'  But  when  permission  was  granted,  those  two 
took  four  days'  leave,'  the  Chaplain  went  on. 

1 1  do  not  think  Attar  Singh  should  have  taken 
Baynes  Sahib's  revolver.  He  was  Baynes  Sahib's 
orderly,  and  all  that  Sahib's  things  were  open  to 
him.  It  was,  therefore,  as  I  count  it,  shame  to 
Attar  Singh,'  said  the  Subadar-Major. 

'  All  the  words  had  been  said.  There  was  need 
of  arms,  and  how  could  soldiers  use  Government 
rifles  upon  mere  cultivators  in  the  fields?'  the 
Regimental  Chaplain  replied.  '  Moreover,  the 
revolver  was  sent  back,  together  with  a  money- 
order  for  the  cartridges  expended.  "  Borrow  not ; 
but  if  thou  borrow  est,  pay  back  soon  I"  That  is 
written  in  the  Hymns.  Rutton  Singh  took  a  sword, 
and  he  and  Attar  Singh  went  to  Pishapur  and, 
after  word  given,  the  four  brethren  fell  upon  their 
persecutors  in  Pishapur  village  and  slew  seventeen, 
wounding  ten.  A  revolver  is  better  than  a  lawsuit. 
I  say  that  these  four  brethren,  the  two  with  us, 
and  the  two  mere  cultivators,  slew  and  wounded 


222     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

twenty-seven — all  their  mother's  kin,  male  and 
female. 

'Then  the  four  mounted  to  their  housetop, 
and  Attar  Singh,  who  was  always  one  of  the 
impetuous,  said  "  My  work  is  done,"  and  he  made 
shinan  (purification)  in  all  men's  sight,  and  he  lent 
Rutton  Singh  Baynes  Sahib's  revolver,  and  Rutton 
Singh  shot  him  in  the  head. 

'  So  Attar  Singh  abandoned  his  body,  as  an 
insect  abandons  a  blade  of  grass.  But  Rutton 
Singh,  having  more  work  to  do,  went  down  from 
the  housetop  and  sought  an  enemy  whom  he  had 
forgotten — a  Patiala  man  of  this  regiment  who  had 
sided  with  the  persecutors.  When  he  overtook 
the  man,  Rutton  Singh  hit  him  twice  with  bullets 
and  once  with  the  sword.' 

'  But  the  man  escaped  and  is  now  in  the 
hospital  here,'  said  the  Subadar- Major.  'The 
doctor  says  he  will  live  in  spite  of  all.' 

'Not  Rutton  Singh's  fault.  Rutton  Singh  left 
him  for  dead.  Then  Rutton  Singh  returned  to 
the  housetop,  and  the  three  brothers  together, 
Attar  Singh  being  dead,  sent  word  by  a  lad  to  the 
police  station  for  an  army  to  be  dispatched  against 
them  that  they  might  die  with  honours.  But 
none  came.  And  yet  Patiala  State  is  not  under 
English  law  and  they  should  know  virtue  there 
when  they  see  it ! 

'  So,  on  the  third  day,  Rutton  Singh  also  made 
shinan,  and  the  youngest  of  the  brethren  shot  him 
also  in  the  head,  and  he  abandoned  his  body. 

'  Thus  was  all  correct.  There  was  neither 
heat,  nor  haste,  nor  abuse  in  the  matter  from  end 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  223 

to  end.  There  remained  alive  not  one  man  or 
woman  of  their  mother's  kin  which  had  oppressed 
them.  Of  the  other  villagers  of  Pishapur,  who 
had  taken  no  part  in  the  persecutions,  not  one  was 
slain.  Indeed,  the  villagers  sent  them  food  on  the 
housetop  for  those  three  days  while  they  waited 
for  the  police  who  would  not  dispatch  that  army. 

1  Listen  again !  I  know  that  Attar  Singh  and 
Rutton  Singh  omitted  no  ceremony  of  the  purifica- 
tions, and  when  all  was  done  Baynes  Sahib's 
revolver  was  thrown  down  from  the  housetop, 
together  with  three  rupees  twelve  annas ;  and 
order  was  given  for  its  return  by  post.' 

'  And  what  befell  the  two  younger  brethren 
who  were  not  in  the  service? '  the  Havildar-Major 
asked. 

'  Doubtless  they  too  are  dead,  but  since  they  were 
not  in  the  Regiment  their  honour  concerns  them- 
selves only.  So  far  as  we  were  touched,  see  how 
correctly  we  came  out  of  the  matter !  I  think 
the  King  should  be  told  ;  for  where  could  you 
match  such  a  tale  except  among  us  Sikhs  ?  Sri 
wah  guru  ji  ki  Khalsa !  Sri  wah  guru  ji  ki  futteh ! ' 
said  the  Regimental  Chaplain. 

'  Would  three  rupees  twelve  annas  pay  for  the 
used  cartridges  ? '  said  the  Havildar-Major. 

*  Attar  Singh  knew  the  just  price.  All  Baynes 
Sahib's  gear  was  in  his  charge.  They  expended 
one  tin  box  of  fifty  cartouches,  lacking  two  which 
were  returned.  As  I  said — as  I  say — the  arrange- 
ment was  made  not  with  heat  nor  blasphemies  as 
a  Mussulman  would  have  made  it  ;  not  with  cries 
nor  caperings  as  an  idolater  would  have  made  it  ; 


224     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

but  conformably  to  the  ritual  and  doctrine  of  the 
Sikhs.  Hear  you  !  "  Though  hundreds  of  amuse- 
ments are  offered  to  a  child  it  cannot  live  without 
milk.  If  a  man  be  divorced  from  his  soul  and  his 
soul's  desire  he  certainly  will  not  stop  to  play  upon  the 
road,  but  he  will  make  haste  with  his  pilgrimage.''' 
That  is  written.     I  rejoice  in  my  disciples.' 

*  True  !  True  !  Correct !  Correct  ! '  said  the 
Subadar-Major.  There  was  a  long,  easy  silence. 
One  heard  a  water-wheel  creaking  somewhere  and 
the  nearer  sound  of  meal  being  ground  in  a  quern. 

*  But  he — '  the  Chaplain  pointed  a  scornful 
chin  at  the  Havildar-Major — '  he  has  been  so  long 
in  England  that ' 

*  Let  the  lad  alone/  said  his  uncle.  '  He  was 
but  two  months  there,  and  he  was  chosen  for  good 
cause.' 

Theoretically,  all  Sikhs  are  equal.  Practically, 
there  are  differences,  as  none  know  better  than 
well-born,  land-owning  folk,  or  long-descended 
chaplains  from  Amritsar. 

'  Hast  thou  heard  anything  in  England  to 
match  my  tale  ?  '  the  Chaplain  sneered. 

'  I  saw  more  than  I  could  understand,  so  I  have 
locked  up  my  stories  in  my  own  mouth,'  the 
Havildar-Major  replied  meekly. 

'  Stories  ?  What  stories  ?  I  know  all  the 
stories  about  England,'  said  the  Chaplain.  '  I 
know  that  terains  run  underneath  their  bazaars 
there,  and  as  for  their  streets  stinking  with  mota- 
kahars,  only  this  morning  I  was  nearly  killed  by 
Duggan  Sahib's  mota-kahar.  That  young  man  is 
a  devil/ 


IN  THE  PRESENCE 


225 


'  I  expect  Grunthi-jee,'  said  the  Subadar-Major, 
*  you  and  I  grow  too  old  to  care  for  the  Kahar-ki- 
nautch — the  Bearer's  dance.'  He  named  one 
of  the  sauciest  of  the  old-time  nautches,  and 
smiled  at  his  own  pun.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
nephew.  *  When  I  was  a  lad  and  came  back 
to  my  village  on  leave,  I  waited  the  convenient 
hour,  and,  the  elders  giving  permission,  I  spoke 
of  what  I  had  seen  elsewhere.' 

'Ay,  my  father,'  said  the  Havildar-Major, 
softly  and  affectionately.  He  sat  himself  down 
with  respect,  as  behoved  a  mere  lad  of  thirty 
with  a  bare  half-dozen  campaigns  to  his  credit. 

'  There  were  four  men  in  this  affair  also,'  he 
began,  'and  it  was  an  affair  that  touched  the 
honour,  not  of  one  regiment,  nor  two,  but  of 
all  the  Army  in  Hind.  Some  part  of  it  I  saw  ; 
some  I  heard ;  but  all  the  tale  is  true.  My 
father's  brother  knows,  and  my  priest  knows, 
that  I  was  in  England  on  business  with  my 
Colonel,  when  the  King — the  Great  Queen's  son 
— completed  his  life. 

'  First,  there  was  a  rumour  that  sickness  was 
upon  him.  Next,  we  knew  that  he  lay  sick  in 
the  Palace.  A  very  great  multitude  stood  out- 
side the  Palace  by  night  and  by  day,  in  the  rain  as 
well  as  the  sun,  waiting  for  news. 

'  Then  came  out  one  with  a  written  paper, 
and  set  it  upon  a  gate-side — the  word  of  the 
King's  death — and  they  read,  and  groaned.  This 
I  saw  with  my  own  eyes,  because  the  office 
where  my  Colonel  Sahib  went  daily  to  talk  with 
Colonel   Forsyth   Sahib    was   at    the   east   end    of 

Q 


226     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  very  gardens  where  the  Palace  stood.  They 
are  larger  gardens  than  Shalimar  here ' — he 
pointed  with  his  chin  up  the  lines — '  or  Shahdera 
across  the  river. 

'  Next  day  there  was  a  darkness  in  the  streets, 
because  all  the  city's  multitude  were  clad  in  black 
garments,  and  they  spoke  as  a  man  speaks  in 
the  presence  of  his  dead — all  those  multitudes. 
In  the  eyes,  in  the  air,  and  in  the  heart,  there 
was  blackness.  I  saw  it.  But  that  is  not 
my  tale. 

'  After  ceremonies  had  been  accomplished,  and 
word  had  gone  out  to  the  Kings  of  the  Earth 
that  they  should  come  and  mourn,  the  new  King 
— the  dead  King's  son — gave  commandment  that 
his  father's  body  should  be  laid,  coffined,  in  a 
certain  Temple  which  is.  near  the  river.  There 
are  no  idols  in  that  Temple  ;  neither  any  carvings, 
nor  paintings,  nor  gildings.  It  is  all  grey  stone, 
of  one  colour  as  though  it  were  cut  out  of 
the  live  rock.  It  is  larger  than — yes,  than  the 
Durbar  Sahib  at  Amritsar,  even  though  the  Akal 
Bunga  and  the  Baba-Atal  were  added.  How  old 
it  may  be  God  knows.  It  is  the  Sahibs'  most 
sacred  Temple. 

*  In  that  place,  by  the  new  King's  command- 
ment, they  made,  as  it  were,  a  shrine  for  a  saint, 
with  lighted  candles  at  the  head  and  the  feet 
of  the  Dead,  and  duly  appointed  watchers  for 
every  hour  of  the  day  and  the  night,  until  the 
dead  King  should  be  taken  to  the  place  of  his 
fathers,  which  is  at  Wanidza. 

1  When  all  was  in  order,  the  new  King  said, 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  227 

"Give  entrance  to  all  people,"  and  the  doors 
were  opened,  and  O  my  uncle  !  O  my  teacher  ! 
all  the  world  entered,  walking  through  that 
Temple  to  take  farewell  of  the  Dead.  There 
was  neither  distinction,  nor  price,  nor  ranking  in 
the  host,  except  an  order  that  they  should  walk 
by  fours. 

*  As  they  gathered  in  the  streets  without — 
very,  very  far  off — so  they  entered  the  Temple, 
walking  by  fours  :  the  child,  the  old  man ;  mother, 
virgin,  harlot,  trader,  priest  ;  of  all  colours  and 
faiths  and  customs  under  the  firmament  of  God, 
from  dawn  till  late  at  night.  I  saw  it.  My 
Colonel  gave  me  leave  to  go.  I  stood  in  the 
line,  many  hours,  one  koss,  two  koss,  distant  from 
the  temple.' 

■  Then  why  did  the  multitude  not  sit  down 
under  the  trees  ? '  asked  the  priest. 

'  Because  we  were  still  between  houses.  The 
city  is  many  koss  wide,'  the  Havildar  -  Major 
resumed.  '  I  submitted  myself  to  that  slow- 
moving  river  and  thus — thus — a  pace  at  a  time 
— I  made  pilgrimage.  There  were  in  my  rank  a 
woman,  a  cripple,  and  a  lascar  from  the  ships. 

'  When  we  entered  the  Temple,  the  coffin  itself 
was  as  a  shoal  in  the  Ravi  River,  splitting  the 
stream  into  two  branches,  one  on  either  side  of 
the  Dead  ;  and  the  watchers  of  the  Dead,  who 
were  soldiers,  stood  about  It,  moving  no  more 
than  the  still  flame  of  the  candles.  Their  heads 
were  bowed  ;  their  hands  were  clasped  ;  their 
eyes  were  cast  upon  the  ground — thus.  They 
were    not    men,    but  images,    and  the   multitude 


228     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

went  past  them  in  fours  by  day,  and,  except  for 
a  little  while,  by  night  also. 

'  No,  there  was  no  order  that  the  people  should 
come  to  pay  respect.  It  was  a  free-will  pilgrim- 
age. Eight  kings  had  been  commanded  to  come 
—  who  obeyed  —  but  upon  his  own  Sahibs  the 
new  King  laid  no  commandment.  Of  themselves 
they  came. 

*  I  made  pilgrimage  twice  :  once  for  my  Salt's 
sake,  and  once  again  for  wonder  and  terror  and 
worship.  But  my  mouth  cannot  declare  one 
thing  of  a  hundred  thousand  things  in  this  matter. 
There  were  lakhs  of  lakhs,  crores  of  crores  of 
people.      I  saw  them.' 

'  More  than  at  our  great  pilgrimages  ? '  the 
Regimental  Chaplain  demanded. 

c  Yes.  Those  are  only  cities  and  districts 
coming  out  to  pray.  This  was  the  world  walking 
in  grief.  And  now,  hear  you  !  It  is  the  King's 
custom  that  four  swords  of  Our  Armies  in  Hind 
should  stand  always  before  the  Presence  in  case 
of  need.' 

:  The  King's  custom,  our  right,'  said  the 
Subadar-Major  curtly. 

'  Also  our  right.  These  honoured  ones  are 
changed  after  certain  months  or  years,  that  the 
honour  may  be  fairly  spread.  Now  it  chanced 
that  v/hen  the  old  King — the  Queen's  son — 
completed  his  days,  the  four  that  stood  in  the 
Presence  were  Goorkhas.  Neither  Sikhs  alas,  nor 
Pathans,  Rajputs,  nor  Jats.  Goorkhas,  my 
father.' 

*  Idolaters,'  said  the  Chaplain. 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  229 

'  But  soldiers  ;  for    I  remember  in  the  Tirah 
-'  the  Havildar-Major  began. 


'  But  soldiers,  for  I  remember  fifteen  campaigns. 
Go  on,'  said  the  Subadar-Major. 

'  And  it  was  their  honour  and  right  to  furnish 
one  who  should  stand  in  the  Presence  by  day  and 
by  night  till  It  went  out  to  burial.  There  were 
no  more  than  four  all  told — four  old  men  to 
furnish  that  guard.' 

'  Old  ?  Old  ?  What  talk  is  this  of  old  men  ? ' 
said  the  Subadar-Major. 

'Nay.  Myfault!  Yourpardon!'  TheHavildar- 
Major  spread  a  deprecating  hand.  '  They  were 
strong,  hot,  valiant  men,  and  the  youngest  was  a 
lad  of  forty-five.' 

1  That  is  better,'  the  Subadar-Major  laughed. 

*  But  for  all  their  strength  and  heat  they  could 
not  eat  strange  food  from  the  Sahibs'  hands. 
There  was  no  cooking  place  in  the  Temple  ;  but  a 
certain  Colonel  Forsyth  Sahib,  who  had  under- 
standing, made  arrangement  whereby  they  should 
receive  at  least  a  little  caste-clean  parched  grain  ; 
also  cold  rice  maybe,  and  water  which  was  pure. 
Yet,  at  best,  this  was  no  more  than  a  hen's  mouth- 
ful, snatched  as  each  came  off  his  guard.  They 
lived  on  grain  and  were  thankful,  as  the  saying  is. 

'  One  hour's  guard  in  every  four  was  each  man's 
burden,  for,  as  I  have  shown,  they  were  but  four 
all  told  ;  and  the  honour  of  Our  Armies  in  Hind 
was  on  their  heads.  The  Sahibs  could  draw  upon 
all  the  armies  in  England  for  the  other  watchers — 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  fresh  men — if  they 
needed  ;  but  these  four  were  but  four. 


230     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

1  The  Sahibs  drew  upon  the  Granadeers  for  the 
other  watchers.  Granadeers  be  very  tall  men  under 
very  tall  bearskins,  such  as  Fusilier  regiments 
wear  in  cold  weather.  Thus,  when  a  Granadeer 
bowed  his  head  but  a  very  little  over  his  stock, 
the  bearskin  sloped  and  showed  as  though  he 
grieved  exceedingly.  Now  the  Goorkhas  wear 
flat,  green  caps ' 

'  I  see,  1  see,'  said  the  Subadar-Major  im- 
patiently. 

*  They  are  bull-necked,  too  ;  and  their  stocks 
are  hard,  and  when  they  bend  deeply — deeply — to 
match  the  Granadeers — they  come  nigh  to  choking 
themselves.  That  was  a  handicap  against  them, 
when  it  came  to  the  observance  of  ritual. 

(  Yet  even  with  their  tall,  grief-declaring  bear- 
skins, the  Granadeers  could  not  endure  the  full 
hour's  guard  in  the  Presence.  There  was  good 
cause,  as  I  will  show,  why  no  man  could  endure 
that  terrible  hour.  So  for  them  the  hour's  guard 
was  cut  to  one-half.  What  did  it  matter  to  the 
Sahibs  ?  They  could  draw  on  ten  thousand 
Granadeers.  Forsyth  Sahib,  who  had  comprehen- 
sion, put  this  choice  also  before  the  four,  and  they 
said,  "  No,  ours  is  the  Honour  of  the  Armies  of 
Hind.  Whatever  the  Sahibs  do,  we  will  suffer  the 
full  hour." 

'  Forsyth  Sahib,  seeing  that  they  were — know- 
ing that  they  could  neither  sleep  long  nor  eat 
much,  said,  "  Is  it  great  suffering  ? "  They 
said,  "  It  is  great  honour.     We  will  endure." 

*  Forsyth  Sahib,  who  loves  us,  said  then  to  the 
eldest,  "  Ho,  father,  tell  me  truly  what  manner  of 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  231 

burden  it  is  ;  for  the  full  hour's  watch  breaks  up 
our  men  like  water." 

*  The  eldest  answered,  "  Sahib,  the  burden  is 
the  feet  of  the  multitude  that  pass  us  on  either 
side.  Our  eyes  being  lowered  and  fixed,  we  see 
those  feet  only  from  the  knee  down — a  river  of 
feet,  Sahib,  that  never — never — never  stops.  It  is 
not  the  standing  without  any  motion  ;  it  is  not 
hunger  ;  nor  is  it  the  dead  part  before  the  dawn 
when  maybe  a  single  one  comes  here  to  weep. 
It  is  the  burden  of  the  unendurable  procession 
of  feet  from  the  knee  down,  that  never — never — 
never  stops  !  " 

'  Forsyth  Sahib  said,  "  By  God,  I  had  not 
considered  that  !  Now  I  know  why  our  men 
come  trembling  and  twitching  off  that  guard. 
But  at  least,  my  father,  ease  the  stock  a  little 
beneath  the  bent  chin  for  that  one  hour." 

'The  eldest  said,  "We  are  in  the  Presence. 
Moreover  He  knew  every  button  and  braid  and 
hook  of  every  uniform  in  all  His  armies." 

*  Then  Forsyth  Sahib  said  no  more,  except  to 
speak  about  their  parched  grain,  but  indeed  they 
could  not  eat  much  after  their  hour,  nor  could 
they  sleep  much  because  of  eye-twitchings  and  the 
renewed  procession  of  the  feet  before  the  eyes. 
Yet  they  endured  each  his  full  hour — not  half  an 
hour — his  one  full  hour  in  each  four  hours.' 

1  Correct !  correct  !  '  said  the  Subadar-Major 
and  the  Chaplain  together.  '  We  come  well  out 
of  this  affair.' 

1  But  seeing  that  they  were  old  men,'  said  the 
Subadar-Major  reflectively,  c  very  old  men,  worn 


23 2     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

out  by  lack  of  food  and  sleep,  could  not  arrange- 
ments have  been  made,  or  influence  have  been 
secured,  or  a  petition  presented,  whereby  a  well- 
born Sikh  might  have  eased  them  of  some  portion 
of  their  great  burden,  even  though  his  substantive 
rank ' 

*  Then  they  would  most  certainly  have  slain 
me,'  said  the  Havildar-Major  with  a  smile. 

'  And  they  would  have  done  correctly,'  said  the 
Chaplain.     '  What  befell  the  honourable  ones  later? ' 

*  This.  The  Kings  of  the  earth  and  all  the 
Armies  sent  flowers  and  such-like  to  the  dead 
King's  palace  at  Wanidza,  where  the  funeral 
offerings  were  accepted.  There  was  no  order 
given,  but  all  the  world  made  oblation.  So  the 
four  took  counsel — three  at  a  time — and  either 
they  asked  Forsyth  Sahib  to  choose  flowers,  or 
themselves  they  went  forth  and  bought  flowers — 
I  do  not  know  ;  but,  however  it  was  arranged,  the 
flowers  were  bought  and  made  in  the  shape  of  a 
great  drum-like  circle  weighing  half  a  maund. 

1  Forsyth  Sahib  had  said,  "  Let  the  flowers  be 
sent  to  Wanidza  with  the  other  flowers  which  all 
the  world  is  sending."  But  they  said  among  them- 
selves, "  It  is  not  fit  that  these  flowers,  which  are 
the  offerings  of  His  Armies  in  Hind,  should  come 
to  the  Palace  of  the  Presence  by  the  hands  of 
hirelings  or  messengers,  or  of  any  man  not  in  His 
service." 

1  Hearing  this,  Forsyth  Sahib,  though  he  was 
much  occupied  with  office-work,  said,  "  Give  me 
the  flowers,  and  I  will  steal  a  time  and  myself 
take  them  to  Wanidza." 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  233 

'  The  eldest  said,  "  Since  when  has  Forsyth 
Sahib  worn  sword  ?  " 

1  Forsyth  Sahib  said,  "  But  always.  And  I 
wear  it  in  the  Presence  when  I  put  on  uniform. 
I  am  a  Colonel  in  the  Armies  of  Hind."  The 
eldest  said,  "  Of  what  regiment  ?  "  And  Forsyth 
Sahib  looked  on  the  carpet  and  pulled  the  hair  of 
his  lip.     He  saw  the  trap.' 

'  Forsyth   Sahib's  regiment   was  once   the  old 

Forty-sixth    Pathans   which    was  called '    the 

Subadar- Major  gave  the  almost  forgotten  title, 
adding  that  he  had  met  them  in  such  and  such 
campaigns,  when  Forsyth  Sahib  was  a  young 
captain. 

The  Havildar-Major  took  up  the  tale,  saying, 
'  The  eldest  knew  that  also,  my  father.  He 
laughed,  and  presently  Forsyth  Sahib  laughed. 

'  "  It  is  true,"  said  Forsyth  Sahib.  "  I  have 
no  regiment.  For  twenty  years  I  have  been  a 
clerk  tied  to  a  thick  pen.  Therefore  I  am  the 
more  fit  to  be  your  orderly  and  messenger  in  this 
business." 

'  The  eldest  then  said,  "  If  it  were  a  matter  of 
my  life  or  the  honour  of  any  of  my  household,  it 
would  be  easy."  And  Forsyth  Sahib  joined  his 
hands  together,  half  laughing,  though  he  was 
ready  to  weep,  and  he  said,  "  Enough  !  I  ask 
pardon.  Which  one  of  you  goes  with  the 
offering  ?  " 

'  The  eldest  said,  feigning  not  to  have  heard, 
"  Nor  must  they  be  delivered  by  a  single  sword — 
as  though  we  were  pressed  for  men  in  His  service," 
and  they  saluted  and  went  out.' 


234     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Were  these  things  seen,  or  were  they  told 
thee?  '  said  the  Subadar-Major. 

'  I  both  saw  and  heard  in  the  office  full  of 
books  and  papers  where  my  Colonel  Sahib  con- 
sulted Forsyth  Sahib  upon  the  business  that  had 
brought  my  Colonel  Sahib  to  England.' 

*  And  what  was  that  business  ?  '  the  Regimental 
Chaplain  asked  of  a  sudden,  looking  full  at  the 
Havildar-Major,  who  returned  the  look  without 
a  quiver. 

'  That  was  not  revealed  to  me,'  said  the 
Havildar-Major. 

1 I  heard  it  might  have  been  some  matter 
touching  the  integrity  of  certain  regiments,'  the 
Chaplain  insisted. 

'  The  matter  was  not  in  any  way  open  to  my 
ears,'  said  the  Havildar-Major. 

'  Humph  !  '  The  Chaplain  drew  his  hard  road- 
worn  feet  under  his  robe.  '  Let  us  hear  the  tale 
that  it  is  permitted  thee  to  tell,'  he  said,  and 
the  Havildar-Major  went  on  : 

'  So  then  the  three,  having  returned  to  the 
Temple,  called  the  fourth,  who  had  only  forty- 
five  years,  when  he  came  off  guard,  and  said,  "  We 
go  to  the  Palace  at  Wanidza  with  the  offerings. 
Remain  thou  in  the  Presence,  and  take  all  our 
guards,  one  after  the  other,  till  we  return." 

'  Within  that  next  hour  they  hired  a  large  and 
strong  mota-kahar  for  the  journey  from  the  Temple 
to  Wanidza,  which  is  twenty  koss  or  more,  and 
they  promised  expedition.  But  he  who  took  their 
guards  said,  "  It  is  not  seemly  that  we  should 
for  any  cause  appear  to  be  in  haste.     There  are 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  235 

eighteen  medals  with  eleven  clasps  and  three  Orders 
to  consider.     Go  at  leisure.     I  can  endure." 

'  So  the  three  with  the  offerings  were  absent 
three  hours  and  a  half,  and  having  delivered  the 
offering  at  Wanidza  in  the  correct  manner  they 
returned  and  found  the  lad  on  guard,  and  they  did 
not  break  his  guard  till  his  full  hour  was  ended. 
So  he  endured  four  hours  in  the  Presence,  not 
stirring  one  hair,  his  eyes  abased,  and  the  river 
of  feet,  from  the  knee  down,  passing  continually 
before  his  eyes.  When  he  was  relieved,  it  was 
seen  that  his  eyeballs  worked  like  weavers'  shuttles. 

*  And  so  it  was  done — not  in  hot  blood,  not 
for  a  little  while,  nor  yet  with  the  smell  of  slaughter 
and  the  noise  of  shouting  to  sustain,  but  in  silence, 
for  a  very  long  time,  rooted  to  one  place  before 
the  Presence  among  the  most  terrible  feet  of  the 
multitude.' 

*  Correct ! '  the  Chaplain  chuckled. 

'  But  the  Goorkhas  had  the  honour,'  said  the 
Subadar-Major  sadly. 

'  Theirs  was  the  Honour  of  His  Armies  in  Hind, 
and  that  was  Our  Honour,'  the  nephew  replied. 

*  Yet  I  would  one  Sikh  had  been  concerned  in 
it — even  one  low-caste  Sikh.      And  after  ?  ' 

'  They  endured  the  burden  until  the  end — until 
It  went  out  of  the  Temple  to  be  laid  among  the 
older  kings  at  Wanidza.  When  all  was  accom- 
plished and  It  was  withdrawn  under  the  earth, 
Forsyth  Sahib  said  to  the  four,  "  The  King  gives 
command  that  you  be  fed  here  on  meat  cooked  by 
your  own  cooks.     Eat  and  take  ease,  my  fathers." 

*  So  they  loosed  their  belts  and  ate.     They  had 


236     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

not  eaten  food  except  by  snatches  for  some  long 
time  ;  and  when  the  meat  had  given  them  strength 
they  slept  for  very  many  hours  ;  and  it  was  told  me 
that  the  procession  of  the  unendurable  feet  ceased 
to  pass  before  their  eyes  any  more.' 

He  threw  out  one  hand  palm  upward  to  show 
that  the  tale  was  ended. 

'  We  came  well  and  cleanly  out  of  it,'  said  the 
Subadar-Major. 

*  Correct !  Correct  !  Correct !  '  said  the  Regi- 
mental Chaplain.  '  In  an  evil  age  it  is  good  to 
hear  such  things,  and  there  is  certainly  no  doubt 
that  this  is  a  very  evil  age.' 


JOBSON'S  AMEN 

'  Blessed  be   the  English  and  all  their  ways   and 

works 
Cursed  be  the  Infidels,  Hereticks,  and  Turks  ! ' 
'  Amen,'  quo'  Jobson,  '  but  where  I  used  to  lie 
Was  neither  Candle,  Bell  nor  Book  to  curse  my 

brethren  by  : 

'  But  a  palm-tree  in  full  bearing,  bowing  down, 
bowing  down, 

To  a  surf  that  drove  unsparing  at  the  brown- 
walled  town — 

Conches  in  a  temple,  oil-lamps  in  a  dome — 

And  a  low  moon  out  of  Africa  said  :  "  This  way 
home  !  "  ' 

'  Blessed  be  the  English  and  all  that  they  profess. 
Cursed  be  the  Savages  that  prance  in  nakedness ! ' 
4  Amen,'  quo'  Jobson,  *  but  where  I  used  to  lie 
Was  neither   shirt   nor   pantaloons   to   catch   my 
brethren  by  : 

'  But  a  well-wheel  slowly  creaking,  going  round, 

going  round, 
By  a  water-channel  leaking  over  drowned,  warm 

ground — 
Parrots  very  busy  in  the  trellised  pepper-vine — 
And  a  high  sun  over  Asia  shouting  :   "  Rise  and 

shine  !  "  ' 

237 


23 8     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Blessed  be  the  English  and  everything  they  own. 
Cursed   be   the   Infidels    that    bow  to   v/ood   and 

stone  !  ' 
'  Amen,'  quo'  Jobson,  '  but  where  I  used  to  lie 
Was    neither    pew    nor    Gospelleer    to    save    my 

brethren  by  : 

'  But   a   desert    stretched    and    stricken,   left    and 

right,  left  and  right, 
Where  the  piled  mirages  thicken  under  white-hot 

light— 
A   skull   beneath   a   sand-hill   and  a  viper  coiled 

inside — 
And  a  red  wind  out  of  Libya   roaring  :    "  Run 

and  hide  !  "  ' 

*  Blessed  be  the  English  and  all  they  make  or  do. 
Cursed  be  the  Hereticks  who  doubt  that  this  is 

true  !  ' 

*  Amen,'  quo'  Jobson,  '  but  where  I  mean  to  die 
Is  neither  rule  nor  calliper  to  judge  the  matter  by : 

'But   Himalaya   heavenward -heading,    sheer   and 

vast,  sheer  and  vast, 
In  a  million  summits  bedding  on  the  last  world's 

past  ; 
A    certain    sacred    mountain    where    the    scented 

cedars  climb, 
And  —  the   feet    of  my    Beloved    hurrying    back 

through  Time  ! ' 


Regulus 
(1908) 

Regulus,  a  Roman  general^  defeated  the  Cartha- 
ginians 256  B.C.,  but  was  next  year  defeated  and 
taken  prisoner  by  the  Carthaginians,  who  sent  him 
to  Rome  with  an  embassy  to  ask  for  peace  or  an 
exchange  of  prisoners.  Regulus  strongly  advised  the 
Roman  Senate  to  make  no  terms  with  the  enemy.  He 
then  returned  to  Carthage  and  was  put  to  death. 

The  Fifth  Form  had  been  dragged  several  times 
in  its  collective  life,  from  one  end  of  the  school 
Horace  to  the  other.  Those  were  the  years  when 
Army  examiners  gave  thousands  of  marks  for 
Latin,  and  it  was  Mr.  King's  hated  business  to 
defeat  them. 

Hear  him,  then,  on  a  raw  November  morning 
at  second  lesson. 

'  Aha  ! '  he  began,  rubbing  his  hands.  '  Cras 
ingens  iterabimus  aequor.  Our  portion  to-day  is 
the  Fifth  Ode  of  the  Third  Book,  I  believe — 
concerning  one  Regulus,  a  gentleman.  And  how 
often  have  we  been  through  it  ? ' 

239 


24o    A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Twice,  sir,'  said  Malpass,  head  of  the  Form. 

Mr.  King  shuddered.  '  Yes,  twice,  quite  liter- 
ally,' he  said.  '  To-day,  with  an  eye  to  your 
Army  viva-voce  examinations — ugh  ! — I  shall  exact 
somewhat  freer  and  more  florid  renditions.  With 
feeling  and  comprehension  if  that  be  possible.  I 
except ' — here  his  eye  swept  the  back  benches — 
'  our  friend  and  companion  Beetle,  from  whom, 
now  as  always,  I  demand  an  absolutely  literal 
translation.'     The  form  laughed  subserviently. 

'  Spare  his  blushes  !     Beetle  charms  us  first.' 

Beetle  stood  up,  confident  in  the  possession  of 
a  guaranteed  construe,  left  behind  by  M'Turk,  who 
had  that  day  gone  into  the  sick-house  with  a  cold. 
Yet  he  was  too  wary  a  hand  to  show  confidence. 

'  Credidimus,  we — believe — we  have  believed,'  he 
opened  in  hesitating  slow,  time,  *  tonantem  Jovem, 
thundering  Jove — regnare,  to  reign — cae/o,  in 
heaven.  Augustus,  Augustus — habebitur,  will  be 
held  or  considered — praesens  divus,  a  present  God 
— adjsctis  Britannis,  the  Britons  being  added — 
imperio,  to  the  Empire — gravib  usque  Per  sis,  with 
the  heavy — er,  stern  Persians.' 

'What?'     ' 

'  The  grave  or  stern  Persians.'  Beetle  pulled 
up  with  the  '  Thank-God-I-have-done-my-duty  ' 
air  of  Nelson  in  the  cockpit. 

'  I  am  quite  aware,'  said  King,  '  that  the  first 
stanza  is  about  the  extent  of  your  knowledge,  but 
continue,  sweet  one,  continue.  Gravibus,  by  the 
way,  is  usually  translated  as  "  troublesome." 

Beetle  drew  a  long  and  tortured  breath.  The 
second  stanza  (which  carries  over  to  the  third)  of 


REGULUS  241 

that  Ode  is  what  is  technically  called  a  '  stinker.' 
But  M'Turk  had  done  him  handsomely. 

<  Milesne  Crassi,  had — has  the  soldier  of 
Crassus — vixit,  lived — turpis  maritus,  a  disgraceful 
husband ' 

4  You  slurred  the  quantity  of  the  word  after 
turpis,'  said  King.     *  Let's  hear  it.' 

Beetle  guessed  again,  and  for  a  wonder  hit  the 
correct  quantity.  '  Er — a  disgraceful  husband — 
conjuge  barbara,  with  a  barbarous  spouse.' 

'  Why  do  you  select  that  disgustful  equivalent 
out  of  all  the  dictionary  ? '  King  snapped.  '  Isn't 
"  wife  "  good  enough  for  you  ? ' 

1  Yes,  sir.  But  what  do  I  do  about  this  bracket, 
sir  ?     Shall  I  take  it  now  ? ' 

'  Confine  yourself  at  present  to  the  soldier  of 
Crassus.' 

*  Yes,  sir.  Et,  and — consenuit,  has  he  grown  old 
— in  armis,  in  the — er — arms — hostium  socerorum, 
of  his  father-in-law's  enemies.' 

'  Who  ?     How  ?     Which  ? ' 

'  Arms  of  his  enemies'  fathers-in-law,  sir.' 

'Tha-anks.  By  the  way,  what  meaning  might 
you  attach  to  in  armis  ? ' 

'  Oh,  weapons — weapons  of  war,  sir.'  There 
was  a  virginal  note  in  Beetle's  voice  as  though  he 
had  been  falsely  accused  of  uttering  indecencies. 
*  Shall  I  take  the  bracket  now,  sir  ? ' 

'  Since  it  seems  to  be  troubling  you.' 

'  Pro  Curia,  O  for  the  Senate  House — inversique 
mores,  and  manners  upset — upside  down.' 

'Ve-ry  like  your  translation.  Meantime,  the 
soldier  of  Crassus  ? ' 

R 


242     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Sub  rege  Medo,  under  a  Median  King — Marsus 
et  Apulus,  he  being  a  Marsian  and  an  Apulian.' 

1  Who  ?      The  Median  King  ? ' 

*  No,  sir.  The  soldier  of  Crassus.  Oblittus 
agrees  with  milesne  Crassi,  sir,'  volunteered  too 
hasty  Beetle. 

'  Does  it  ?     It  doesn't  with  me1 

1  Oh-b light-us ^  Beetle  corrected  hastily,  '  forget- 
ful— anciliorum,  of  the  shields,  or  trophies — et 
nominis,  and  the — his  name — et  togae>  and  the  toga 
— eternaeque  Vestae,  and  eternal  Vesta — incolumt 
Jove,  Jove  being  safe — et  urbe  Roma,  and  the 
Roman  city.'  With  an  air  of  hardly  restrained 
zeal — '  Shall  I  go  on,  sir  ? ' 

Mr.  King  winced.  '  No,  thank  you.  You 
have  indeed  given  us  a  translation  !  May  I  ask 
if  it  conveys  any  meaning  whatever  to  your  so- 
called  mind  ? ' 

'  Oh,  I  think  so,  sir.'  This  with  gentle  tolera- 
tion for  Horace  and  all  his  works. 

'  We  envy  you.     Sit  down.' 

Beetle  sat  down  relieved,  well  knowing  that  a 
reef  of  uncharted  genitives  stretched  ahead  of 
him,  on  which  in  spite  of  M 'Turk's  sailing- 
directions  he  would  infallibly  have  been  wrecked. 

Rattray,  who  took  up  the  task,  steered  neatly 
through  them  and  came  unscathed  to  port. 

'  Here  we  require  drama,'  said  King.  '  Regulus 
himself  is  speaking  now.  Who  shall  represent  the 
provident-minded  Regulus  ?  Winton,  will  you 
kindly  oblige  ? ' 

Winton  of  King's  House,  a  long,  heavy,  tow- 
headed   Second   Fifteen  forward,  overdue  for  his 


REGULUS  243 

First  Fifteen  colours,  and  in  aspect  like  an  earnest, 
elderly  horse,  rose  up,  and  announced,  among  other 
things,  that  he  had  seen  *  signs  affixed  to  Punic 
deluges.'  Half  the  Form  shouted  for  joy,  and  the 
other  half  for  joy  that  there  was  something  to 
shout  about. 

Mr.  King  opened  and  shut  his  eyes  with  great 
swiftness.  '  Signa  adfixa  delubris,'  he  gasped. 
'  So  delubris  is  "  deluges  "  is  it  ?  Winton,  in  all 
our  dealings,  have  I  ever  suspected  you  of  a  jest  ? ' 

4  No,  sir,'  said  the  rigid  and  angular  Winton, 
while  the  Form  rocked  about  him. 

*  And  yet  you  assert  delubris  means  "deluges." 
Whether  I  am  a  fit  subject  for  such  a  jape  is,  of 
course,  a  matter  of  opinion,  but.  .  .  .  Winton, 
you  are  normally  conscientious.  May  we  assume 
you  looked  out  delubris  ? ' 

'  No,  sir.'  Winton  was  privileged  to  speak 
that  truth  dangerous  to  all  who  stand  before  Kings. 

*  'Made  a  shot  at  it  then  ?  ' 

Every  line  of  Winton's  body  showed  he  had 
done  nothing  of  the  sort.  Indeed,  the  very  idea 
that '  Pater'  Winton  (and  a  boy  is  not  called  '  Pater  ' 
by  companions  for  his  frivolity)  would  make  a  shot 
at  anything  was  beyond  belief.  But  he  replied, 
1  Yes,'  and  all  the  while  worked  with  his  right  heel 
as  though  he  were  heeling  a  ball  at  punt-about. 

Though  none  dared  to  boast  of  being  a  favourite 
with  King,  the  taciturn,  three-cornered  Winton 
stood  high  in  his  House-Master's  opinion.  It 
seemed  to  save  him  neither  rebuke  nor  punishment, 
but  the  two  were  in  some  fashion  sympathetic. 

'  Hm  ! '  said  King  drily.     '  I  was  going  to  say 


244     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

— Flagitio  additis  damnum,  but  I  think — I  think  I 
see  the  process.  Beetle,  the  translation  of  delubris, 
please.' 

Beetle  raised  his  head  from  his  shaking  arm 
long  enough  to  answer  :   '  Ruins,  sir.' 

There  was  an  impressive  pause  while  King 
checked  off  crimes  on  his  fingers.  Then  to  Beetle 
the  much-enduring  man  addressed  winged  words  : 

'  Guessing,'  said  he.  *  Guessing,  Beetle,  as  usual, 
from  the  look  of  delubris  that  it  bore  some  relation 
to  diluvium  or  deluge,  you  imparted  the  result  of 
your  half-baked  lucubrations  to  Winton  who  seems 
to  have  been  lost  enough  to  have  accepted  it. 
Observing  next,  your  companion's  fall,  from  the 
presumed  security  of  your  undistinguished  position 
in  the  rear-guard,  you  took  another  pot-shot. 
The  turbid  chaos  of  your  mind  threw  up  some 
memory  of  the  word  "  dilapidations  "  which  you 
have  pitifully  attempted  to  disguise  under  the 
synonym  of  "  ruins."  ' 

As  this  was  precisely  what  Beetle  had  done  he 
looked  hurt  but  forgiving.  *  We  will  attend  to 
this  later,'  said  King.  '  Go  on,  Winton,  and 
retrieve  yourself.' 

Delubris  happened  to  be  the  one  word  which 
Winton  had  not  looked  out  and  had  asked  Beetle 
for,  when  they  were  settling  into  their  places. 
He  forged  ahead  with  no  further  trouble.  Only 
when  he  rendered  scilicet  as  '  forsooth,'  King 
erupted. 

'  Regulus,'  he  said,  '  was  not  a  leader-writer  for 
the  penny  press,  nor,  for  that  matter,  was  Horace. 
Regulus  says  :    "  The   soldier   ransomed   by  gold 


REGULUS  245 

will  come  keener  for  the  fight — will  he  by — by 
gum  !  "  That's  the  meaning  of  scilicet.  It  indicates 
contempt — bitter  contempt.  "  Forsooth,"  forsooth! 
You'll  be  talking  about  "  speckled  beauties  "  and 
"  eventually  transpire  "  next.  Howell,  what  do 
you  make  of  that  doubled  "  Vidi  ego — ego  vidi  "  ? 
It  wasn't  put  in  to  fill  up  the  metre,  you  know.' 

'  Isn't  it  intensive,  sir  ? '  said  Howell,  afflicted 
by  a  genuine  interest  in  what  he  read.  '  Regulus 
was  a  bit  in  earnest  about  Rome  making  no  terms 
with  Carthage — and  he  wanted  to  let  the  Romans 
understand  it,  didn't  he,  sir  ? ' 

'  Less  than  your  usual  grace,  but  the  fact. 
Regulus  was  in  earnest.  He  was  also  engaged  at 
the  same  time  in  cutting  his  own  throat  with  every 
word  he  uttered.  He  knew  Carthage  which  (your 
examiners  won't  ask  you  this  so  you  needn't  take 
notes)  was  a  sort  of  God-forsaken  nigger  Man- 
chester. Regulus  was  not  thinking  about  his  own  life. 
He  was  telling  Rome  the  truth.  He  was  playing 
for  his  side.  Those  lines  from  the  eighteenth  to  the 
fortieth  ought  to  be  written  in  blood.  Yet  there 
are  things  in  human  garments  which  will  tell  you 
that  Horace  was  a  flaneur — a  man  about  town. 
Avoid  such  beings.  Horace  knew  a  very  great 
deal.  He  knew  !  Erit  ille  fords — "  will  he  be 
brave  who  once  to  faithless  foes  has  knelt  ?  "  And 
again  (stop  pawing  with  your  hooves,  Thornton  ! ) 
hie  unde  vitam  sumeret  inscius.  That  means 
roughly — but  1  perceive  I  am  ahead  of  my  trans- 
lators. Begin  at  hie  unde,  Vernon,  and  let  us  see 
if  you  have  the  spirit  of  Regulus.' 

Now   no  one   expected  fireworks  from   gentle 


246     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Paddy  Vernon,  sub-prefect  of  Hartopp's  House, 
but,  as  must  often  be  the  case  with  growing  boys, 
his  mind  was  in  abeyance  for  the  time  being,  and 
he  said,  all  in  a  rush,  on  behalf  of  Regulus  :  '  O 
magna  Carthago  probrosis  altior  Italiae  minis ,  O 
Carthage,  thou  wilt  stand  forth  higher  than  the 
ruins  of  Italy.' 

Even  Beetle,  most  lenient  of  critics,  was  in- 
terested at  this  point,  though  he  did  not  join  the 
half-groan  of  reprobation  from  the  wiser  heads  of 
the  Form. 

'  Please  don't  mind  me,'  said  King,  and  Vernon 
very  kindly  did  not.  He  ploughed  on  thus  : 
1  He  (Regulus)  is  related  to  have  removed  from 
himself  the  kiss  of  the  shameful  wife  and  of  his 
small  children  as  less  by  the  head,  and,  being 
stern,  to  have  placed  his  virile  visage  on  the 
ground.' 

Since  King  loved  '  virile '  about  as  much  as  he 
did  '  spouse  '  or  '  forsooth  '  the  Form  looked  up 
hopefully.     But  Jove  thundered  not. 

'Until,'  Vernon  continued,  'he  should  have 
confirmed  the  sliding  fathers  as  being  the  author 
of  counsel  never  given  under  an  alias.' 

He  stopped,  conscious  of  stillness  round  him 
like  the  dread  calm  of  the  typhoon's  centre. 
King's  opening  voice  was  sweeter  than  honey. 

*  I  am  painfully  aware  by  bitter  experience  that 
I  cannot  give  you  any  idea  of  the  passion,  the 
power,  the — the  essential  guts  of  the  lines  which 
you  have  so  foully  outraged  in  our  presence.     But 

'  the  note  changed, '  so  far  as  in  me  lies,  I  will 

strive  to  bring  home  to  you,  Vernon,  the  fact  that 


REGULUS  247 

there  exist  in  Latin  a  few  pitiful  rules  of  grammar, 
of  syntax,  nay,  even  of  declension,  which  were  not 
created  for  your  incult  sport — your  Boeotian  diver- 
sion. You  will,  therefore,  Vernon,  write  out  and 
bring  to  me  to-morrow  a  word-for-word  English- 
Latin  translation  of  the  Ode,  together  with  a  full 
list  of  all  adjectives — an  adjective  is  not  a  verb, 
Vernon,  as  the  Lower  Third  will  tell  you — all  ad- 
jectives, their  number,  case,  and  gender.  Even 
now  I  haven't  begun  to  deal  with  you  faithfully.' 

'  I — I'm  very  sorry,  sir,'  Vernon  stammered. 

'  You  mistake  the  symptoms,  Vernon.  You 
are  possibly  discomfited  by  the  imposition,  but 
sorrow  postulates  some  sort  of  mind,  intellect, 
nous.  Your  rendering  of  probrosis  alone  stamps 
you  as  lower  than  the  beasts  of  the  field.  Will 
some  one  take  the  taste  out  of  our  mouths  ?     And 

— talking  of  tastes '    He  coughed.     There  was 

a  distinct  flavour  of  chlorine  gas  in  the  air.  Up 
went  an  eyebrow,  though  King  knew  perfectly 
well  what  it  meant. 

'  Mr.  Hartopp's  st — science  class  next  door,' 
said  Malpass. 

*  Oh  yes.  I  had  forgotten.  Our  newly 
established  Modern  Side,  of  course.  Perowne, 
open  the  windows  ;  and  Winton,  go  on  once  more 
from  interque  maerentes? 

'  And  hastened  away/  said  Winton, '  surrounded 
by  his  mourning  friends,  into  —  into  illustrious 
banishment.  But  I  got  that  out  of  Conington, 
sir,'  he  added  in  one  conscientious  breath. 

'  I  am  aware.  The  master  generally  knows  his 
ass's  crib,  though  I  acquit  you  of  any  intention  that 


248     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

way.  Can  you  suggest  anything  for  egregius  exul  ? 
Only  ''egregious  exile"  ?  I  fear  "egregious"  is 
a  good  word  ruined.  No !  You  can't  in  this 
case  improve  on  Conington.  Now  then  for  atqui 
sciebat  quae  sibi  barbarus  tortor pararet.  The  whole 
force  of  it  lies  in  the  atqui? 

'  Although  he  knew,'  Winton  suggested. 

'  Stronger  than  that,  I  think.' 

'  He  who  knew  well,'  Malpass  interpolated. 

'  Ye-es.  "  Well  though  he  knew."  I  don't 
like  Conington's  "well-witting."  It's  Wardour 
Street.' 

*  Well  though  he  knew  what  the  savage  torturer 
was — was  getting  ready  for  him,'  said  Winton. 

'  Ye-es.     Had  in  store  for  him.' 

'  Yet  he  brushed  aside  his  kinsmen  and  the 
people  delaying  his  return.' 

'  Ye-es  ;  but  then  how  do  you  render  obstantes  ? ' 

'  If  it's  a  free  translation  mightn't  obstantes  and 
morantem  come  to  about  the  same  thing,  sir  ? ' 

*  Nothing  comes  to  "  about  the  same  thing  " 
with  Horace,  Winton.  As  I  have  said,  Horace 
was  not  a  journalist.  No,  I  take  it  that  his 
kinsmen  bodily  withstood  his  departure,  whereas 
the  crowd  — populumque  —  the  democracy  stood 
about  futilely  pitying  him  and  getting  in  the  way. 
Now  for  that  noblest  of  endings — quam  si  clientum] 
and  King  ran  off  into  the  quotation  : 

'As  though  some  tedious  business  o'er 
Of  clients'  court,  his  journey  lay 
Towards  Venafrum's  grassy  floor 
Or  Sparta-built  Tarentum's  bay. 

All  right,    Winton.      Beetle,    when   you've   quite 


REGULUS  249 

finished  dodging  the  fresh  air  yonder,  give 
me  the  meaning  of  tendens — and  turn  down  your 
collar.' 

'  Me,  sir  ?  Tendens,  sir  ?  Oh  !  Stretching 
away  in  the  direction  of,  sir.' 

c  Idiot  !  Regulus  was  not  a  feature  of  the 
landscape.  He  was  a  man,  self-doomed  to  death 
by  torture.  Atqui  sciebat — knowing  it — having 
achieved  it  for  his  country's  sake — can't  you  hear 
that  atqui  cut  like  a  knife  ? — he  moved  off  with 
some  dignity.  That  is  why  Horace  out  of  the 
whole  golden  Latin  tongue  chose  the  one  word 
"  tendens  " — which  is  utterly  untranslatable.' 

The  gross  injustice  of  being  asked  to  translate 
it,  converted  Beetle  into  a  young  Christian  martyr, 
till  King  buried  his  nose  in  his  handkerchief 
again. 

'I  think  they've  broken  another  gas -bottle 
next  door,  sir,'  said  Howell.  '  They're  always 
doing  it.'  The  Form  coughed  as  more  chlorine 
came  in. 

*  Well,  I  suppose  we  must  be  patient  with  the 
Modern  Side,'  said  King.  *  But  it  is  almost  in- 
supportable for  this  Side.  Vernon,  what  are  you 
grinning  at  ? ' 

Vernon's  mind  had  returned  to  him  glowing 
and  inspired.  He  chuckled  as  he  underlined  his 
Horace. 

'  It  appears  to  amuse  you,'  said  King.  c  Let 
us  participate.     What  is  it  ? ' 

'  The  last  two  lines  of  the  Tenth  Ode,  in  this 
book,  sir,'  was  Vernon's  amazing  reply. 

'  What  ?    Oh,  I  see.     Non  hoc  semper  erit  liminis 


250     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

aut  aquae  caelestis  patiens  latus' 1  King's  mouth 
twitched  to  hide  a  grin.  '  Was  that  done  with 
intention  ? ' 

*  I — I  thought  it  fitted,  sir.' 

*  It  does.  It's  distinctly  happy.  What  put  it 
into  your  thick  head,  Paddy  ? ' 

'  I  don't  know,  sir,  except  we  did  the  Ode  last 
term.' 

*  And  you  remembered  ?  The  same  head  that 
minted  probrosis  as  a  verb  !  Vernon,  you  are  an 
enigma.  No  !  This  Side  will  not  always  be  patient 
of  unheavenly  gases  and  waters.  I  will  make  re- 
presentations to  our  so-called  Moderns.  Mean- 
time (who  shall  say  I  am  not  just  ?)  I  remit  you 
your  accrued  pains  and  penalties  in  regard  to 
probrosim,  probrosis,  probrosit  and  other  enormities. 
I  oughtn't  to  do  it,  but  this  Side  is  occasionally 
human.     By  no  means  bad,  Paddy.' 

1  Thank  you,  sir,'  said  Vernon,  wondering  how 
inspiration  had  visited  him. 

Then  King,  with  a  few  brisk  remarks  about 
Science,  headed  them  back  to  Regulus,  of  whom 
and  of  Horace  and  Rome  and  evil-minded  com- 
mercial Carthage  and  of  the  democracy  eternally 
futile,  he  explained,  in  all  ages  and  climes,  he  spoke 
for  ten  minutes  ;  passing  thence  to  the  next  Ode — 
Delicta  majorum — where  he  fetched  up,  full-voiced, 
upon — -*  Dis  te  minorem  quod  geris  imperas  '  (Thou 
rulest  because  thou  bearest  thyself  as  lower  than 
the  Gods) — making  it  a  text  for  a  discourse  on 
manners,  morals,  and  respect  for  authority  as  dis- 

1  « This  side  will  not  always  be  patient  of  rain  and  waiting  on 
the  threshold.' 


REGULUS  251 

tinct  from  bottled  gases,  which  lasted  till  the  bell 
rang.  Then  Beetle,  concertinaing  his  books, 
observed  to  Winton,  'When  King's  really  on 
tap  he's  an  interestin'  dog.  Hartopp's  chlorine 
uncorked  him.' 

'  Yes  ;  but  why  did  you  tell  me  delubris  was 
"deluges,"  you  silly  ass? '  said  Winton. 

■  Well,  that  uncorked  him  too.  Look  out,  you 
hoof-handed  old  owl  ! '  Winton  had  cleared  for 
action  as  the  Form  poured  out  like  puppies  at 
play  and  was  scragging  Beetle.  Stalky  from  behind 
collared  Winton  low.     The  three  fell  in  confusion. 

'  Dis  te  minorem  quod  geris  imperas,'  quoth 
Stalky, ruffling Winton'slint-whitelocks.  ''Mustn't 
jape  with  Number  Five  study.  Don't  be  too 
virtuous.  Don't  brood  over  it.  'Twon't  count 
against  you  in  your  future  caree-ah.  Cheer  up, 
Pater.' 

'Pull  him  off  my — er — essential  guts,  will  vou  ?' 
said  Beetle  from  beneath.      '  He's  squashin'  'em.' 

They  dispersed  to  their  studies. 

No  one,  the  owner  least  of  all,  can  explain  what 
is  in  a  growing  boy's  mind.  It  might  have  been 
the  blind  ferment  of  adolescence  ,  Stalky's  random 
remarks  about  virtue  might  have  stirred  him  ;  like 
his  betters  he  might  have  sought  popularity  by 
way  of  clowning  ;  or,  as  the  Head  asserted  years 
later,  the  only  known  jest  of  his  serious  life  might 
have  worked  on  him,  as  a  sober-sided  man's  one 
love  colours  and  dislocates  all  his  after  days.  But, 
at  the  next  lesson,  mechanical  drawing  with  Mr. 
Lidgett  who  as  drawing-master  had  very  limited 


252     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

powers  of  punishment,  Winton  fell  suddenly  from 
grace  and  let  loose  a  live  mouse  in  the  form-room. 
The  whole  form,  shrieking  and  leaping  high,  threw 
at  it  all  the  plaster  cones,  pyramids,  and  fruit  in 
high  relief — not  to  mention  ink-pots — that  they 
could  lay  hands  on.  Mr.  Lidgett  reported  at  once 
to  the  Head  ;  Winton  owned  up  to  his  crime, 
which,  venial  in  the  Upper  Third,  pardonable  at  a 
price  in  the  Lower  Fourth,  was,  of  course,  rank 
ruffianism  on  the  part  of  a  Fifth  Form  boy  ;  and 
so,  by  graduated  stages,  he  arrived  at  the  Head's 
study  just  before  lunch,  penitent,  perturbed, 
annoyed  with  himself  and — as  the  Head  said  to 
King  in  the  corridor  after  the  meal  —  more 
human  than  he  had  known  him  in  seven  years. 

1  You  see,'  the  Head  drawled  on,  '  Winton's 
only  fault  is  a  certain  costive  and  unaccommodating 
virtue.     So  this  comes  very  happily.' 

'  I've  never  noticed  any  sign  of  it,'  said  King. 
Winton  was  in  King's  House,  and  though  King  as 
pro-consul  might,  and  did,  infernally  oppress  his 
own  Province,  once  a  black  and  yellow  cap  was  in 
trouble  at  the  hands  of  the  Imperial  authority 
King  fought  for  him  to  the  very  last  steps  of 
Caesar's  throne. 

'Well,  you  yourself  admitted  just  now  that 
a  mouse  was  beneath  the  occasion,'  the  Head 
answered. 

'  It  was.'  Mr.  King  did  not  love  Mr.  Lidgett. 
1  It  should  have  been  a  rat.  But — but — I  hate  to 
plead  it — it's  the  lad's  first  offence.' 

1  Could  you  have  damned  him  more  completely, 
King?' 


REGULUS  253 

'  Hm.  What  is  the  penalty  ?  '  said  King,  in 
retreat,  but  keeping  up  a  rear-guard  action. 

'  Only  my  usual  few  lines  of  Virgil  to  be  shown 
up  by  tea-time.' 

The  Head's  eyes  turned  slightly  to  that  end  of 
the  corridor  where  Mullins,  Captain  of  the  Games 
('Pot,'  'old  Pot,'  or  'Potiphar'  Mullins),  was 
pinning  up  the  usual  Wednesday  notice — '  Big, 
Middle,  and  Little  Side  Football — A  to  K,  L  to 

Z,  3  to  4-45  P-M- 

You  cannot  write  out  the  Head's  usual  few 
(which  means  five  hundred)  Latin  lines  and  play 
football  for  one  hour  and  three-quarters  between  the 
hours  of  1.30  and  5  p.m.  Winton  had  evidently 
no  intention  of  trying  to  do  so,  for  he  hung  about 
the  corridor  with  a  set  face  and  an  uneasy  foot. 
Yet  it  was  law  in  the  school,  compared  with  which 
that  of  the  Medes  and  Persians  was  no  more  than 
a  non-committal  resolution,  that  any  boy,  outside 
the  First  Fifteen,  who  missed  his  football  for  any 
reason  whatever,  and  had  not  a  written  excuse, 
duly  signed  by  competent  authority  to  explain  his 
absence,  would  receive  not  less  than  three  strokes 
with  a  ground-ash  from  the  Captain  of  the  Games, 
generally  a  youth  between  seventeen  and  eighteen 
years,  rarely  under  eleven  stone  ('  Pot '  was 
nearer  thirteen),  and  always  in  hard  condition. 

King  knew  without  inquiry  that  the  Head  had 
given  Winton  no  such  excuse. 

'  But  he  is  practically  a  member  of  the  First 
Fifteen.  He  has  played  for  it  all  this  term,'  said 
King.  '  I  believe  his  Cap  should  have  arrived  last 
week.' 


254     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  His  Cap  has  not  been  given  him.  Officially, 
therefore,  he  is  naught.     I  rely  on  old  Pot.' 

<But  Mullins  is  Winton's  study-mate,'  King 
persisted. 

Pot  Mullins  and  Pater  Winton  were  cousins 
and  rather  close  friends. 

*  That  will  make  no  difference  to  Mullins — or 
Winton,  if  I  know  'em/  said  the  Head. 

'  But — but,'  King  played  his  last  card  des- 
perately, c  I  was  going  to  recommend  Winton 
for  extra  sub-prefect  in  my  House,  now  Carton 
has  gone.' 

'  Certainly,'  said  the  Head.  '  Why  not  ?  He 
will  be  excellent  by  tea-time,  I  hope.' 

At  that  moment  they  saw  Mr.  Lidgett,  tripping 
down  the  corridor,  waylaid  by  Winton. 

*  It's  about  that  mouse-business  at  mechanical 
drawing,'  Winton  opened,  swinging  across  his  path. 

'  Yes,  yes,  highly  disgraceful,'  Mr.  Lidgett 
panted. 

'  I  know  it  was,'  said  Winton.  '  It — it  was  a 
cad's  trick  because ' 

*  Because  you.  knew  I  couldn't  give  you  more 
than  fifty  lines,'  said  Mr.  Lidgett. 

'  Well,  anyhow  I've  come  to  apologise  for  it.' 
'  Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Lidgett,  and  added,  for 
he  was  a  kindly  man,  '  I  think  that  shows  quite 
right    feeling.      I'll   tell    the   Head    at  once   I'm 
satisfied.' 

*  No — no  ! '  The  boy's  still  unmended  voice 
jumped  from  the  growl  to  the  squeak.  '  I  didn't 
mean  that !  I — I  did  it  on  principle.  Please 
don't — er — do  anything  of  that  kind.' 


REGULUS  255 

Mr.  Lidgett  looked  him  up  and  down  and, 
being  an  artist,  understood. 

'  Thank  you,  Winton,'  he  said.  '  This  shall 
be  between  ourselves.' 

'  You  heard  ? '  said  King,  indecent  pride  in  his 
voice. 

'  Of  course.  You  thought  he  was  going  to 
get  Lidgett  to  beg  him  off  the  impot.' 

King  denied  this  with  so  much  warmth  that 
the  Head  laughed  and  King  went  away  in  a  huff. 

'  By  the  way,'  said  the  Head,  '  I've  told  Winton 
to  do  his  lines  in  your  form-room  —  not  in  his 
study.' 

*  Thanks,'  said  King  over  his  shoulder,  for 
the  Head's  orders  had  saved  Winton  and  Mullins, 
who  was  doing  extra  Army  work  in  the  study, 
from  an  embarrassing  afternoon  together. 

An  hour  later,  King  wandered  into  his  still 
form-room  as  though  by  accident.  Winton  was 
hard  at  work. 

*  Aha  ! '  said  King,  rubbing  his  hands.  '  This 
does  not  look  like  games,  Winton.  Don't  let  me 
arrest  your  facile  pen.  Whence  this  sudden  love 
for  Virgil  ? ' 

1  Impot  from  the  Head,  sir,  for  that  mouse- 
business  this  morning.' 

'  Rumours  thereof  have  reached  us.  That  was 
a  lapse  on  your  part  into  Lower  Thirdery  which 
I  don't  quite  understand.' 

The  *  tump-tump '  of  the  puntabouts  before 
the  sides  settled  to  games  came  through  the  open 
window.  Winton^  like  his  House-master,  loved 
fresh  air.     Then  they  heard  Paddy  Vernon,  sub- 


256     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

prefect  on  duty,  calling  the  roll  in  the  field  and 
marking  defaulters.  Winton  wrote  steadily. 
King  curled  himself  up  on  a  desk,  hands  round 
knees.  One  would  have  said  that  the  man  was 
gloating  over  the  boy's  misfortune,  but  the  boy 
understood. 

'  Dis  te  minorem  quod  geris  imperas]  King  quoted 
presently.  '  It  is  necessary  to  bear  oneself  as 
lower  than  the  local  gods — even  than  drawing- 
masters  who  are  precluded  from  effective  retalia- 
tion. I  do  wish  you'd  tried  that  mouse-game  with 
me,  Pater.' 

Winton  grinned  ;  then  sobered.  '  It  was  a 
cad's  trick,  sir,  to  play  on  Mr.  Lidgett.'  He 
peered  forward  at  the  page  he  was  copying. 

'  Well,   "  the   sin   /  impute  to    each    frustrate 

ghost" '     King  stopped  himself.     'Why  do 

you  goggle  like  an  owl  ?  Hand  me  the  Mantuan 
and  I'll  dictate.  No  matter.  Any  rich  Virgilian 
measures  will  serve.  I  may  peradventure  recall  a 
few.'       He  began  : 

'  Tu  regere  imperio  populos  Romane  memento 
Hae  tibi  erunt  artes  pacisque  imponere  morem, 
Parcere  subjectis  et  debellare  superbos. 

There  you  have  it  all,  Winton.  Write  that  out 
twice  and  yet  once  again.' 

For  the  next  forty  minutes,  with  never  a  glance 
at  the  book,  King  paid  out  the  glorious  hexa- 
meters (and  King  could  read  Latin  as  though  it 
were  alive),  Winton  hauling  them  in  and  coiling 
them  away  behind  him  as  trimmers  in  a  telegraph- 
ship's    hold    coil    away    deep-sea    cable.       King 


REGULUS  257 

broke  from  the  Aeneid  to  the  Georgics  and  back 
again,  pausing  now  and  then  to  translate  some 
specially  loved  line  or  to  dwell  on  the  treble-shot 
texture  of  the  ancient  fabric.  He  did  not  allude 
to  the  coming  interview  with  Mullins  except  at 
the  last,  when  he  said,  '  I  think  at  this  juncture, 
Pater,  I  need  not  ask  you  for  the  precise  signifi- 
cance of  atqui  sciebat  quae  sibi  barbarus  tortor? 

The  ungrateful  Winton  flushed  angrily,  and 
King  loafed  out  to  take  five  o'clock  call-over,  after 
which  he  invited  little  Hartopp  to  tea  and  a  talk 
on  chlorine-gas.  Hartopp  accepted  the  challenge 
like  a  bantam,  and  the  two  went  up  to  King's 
study  about  the  same  time  as  Winton  returned  to 
the  form-room  beneath  it  to  finish  his  lines. 

Then  half  a  dozen  of  the  Second  Fifteen  who 
should  have  been  washing  strolled  in  to  condole 
with  '  Pater '  Winton,  whose  misfortune  and  its 
consequences  were  common  talk.  No  one  was 
more  sincere  than  the  long,  red-headed,  knotty- 
knuckled  '  Paddy  '  Vernon,  but,  being  a  careless 
animal,  he  joggled  Winton's  desk. 

'  Curse  you  for  a  silly  ass !  '  said  Winton. 
1  Don't  do  that.' 

No  one  is  expected  to  be  polite  while  under 
punishment,  so  Vernon,  sinking  his  sub-prefect- 
ship,  replied  peacefully  enough  : 

<  Well,  don't  be  wrathy,  Pater.' 

{ I'm  not,'  said  Winton.  *  Get  out  !  This 
ain't  your  House  form-room.' 

'  'Form-room  don't  belong  to  you.  Why  don't 
you  go  to  your  own  study  ?  '  Vernon  replied. 

'  Because     Mullins    is    there    waitin'    for    the 


258     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

victim,'  said  Stalky  delicately,  and  they  all  laughed. 
'  You  ought  to  have  shaken  that  mouse  out  of 
your  trouser-leg,  Pater.  That's  the  way  /  did  in 
my  youth.  Pater's  revertin'  to  his  second  child- 
hood. Never  mind,  Pater,  we  all  respect  you  and 
your  future  caree-ah.' 

Winton,  still  writhing,  growled.  Vernon 
leaning  on  the  desk  somehow  shook  it  again. 
Then  he  laughed. 

'  What  are  you  grinning  at  ? '  Winton  asked. 

'  I  was  only  thinkin'  of  you  being  sent  up  to 
take  a  lickin'  from  Pot.  I  swear  I  don't  think 
it's  fair.  You've  never  shirked  a  game  in  your 
life,  and  you're  as  good  as  in  the  First  Fifteen 
already.  Your  Cap  ought  to  have  been  delivered 
last  week,  oughtn't  it  ? ' 

It  was  law  in  the  school  that  no  man  could 
by  any  means  enjoy  the  privileges  and  immunities 
of  the  First  Fifteen  till  the  black  velvet  cap  with 
the  gold  tassel,  made  by  dilatory  Exeter  outfitters, 
had  been  actually  set  on  his  head.  Ages  ago, 
a  large -built  and  unruly  Second  Fifteen  had 
attempted  to  change  this  law,  but  the  prefects  of 
that  age  were  still  larger,  and  the  lively  experiment 
had  never  been  repeated. 

'  Will  you,'  said  Winton  very  slowly,  '  kindly 
mind  your  own  damned  business,  you  cursed, 
clumsy,  fat-headed  fool  ?  ' 

The  form-room  was  as  silent  as  the  empty  field 
in  the  darkness  outside.  Vernon  shifted  his  feet 
uneasily. 

'  Well,  /  shouldn't  like  to  take  a  lickin'  from 
Pot,'  he  said. 


REGULUS 


259 


*  Wouldn't  you  ? '  Winton  asked,  as  he  paged 
the  sheets  of  lines  with  hands  that  shook. 

'  No,  I  shouldn't,'  said  Vernon,  his  freckles 
growing  more  distinct  on  the  bridge  of  his  white 
nose. 

'  Well,  I'm  going  to  take  it ' — -Winton  moved 
clear  of  the  desk  as  he  spoke.  '  But  you  re  going 
to  take  a  lickin'  from  me  first.'  Before  any  one 
realised  it,  he  had  flung  himself  neighing  against 
Vernon.  No  decencies  were  observed  on  either 
side,  and  the  rest  looked  on  amazed.  The  two 
met  confusedly,  Vernon  trying  to  do  what  he 
could  with  his  longer  reach  ;  Winton,  insensible 
to  blows,  only  concerned  to  drive  his  enemy  into 
a  corner  and  batter  him  to  pulp.  This  he  managed 
over  against  the  fireplace,  where  Vernon  dropped 
half-stunned.  '  Now  I'm  going  to  give  you  your 
lickin','  said  Winton.  '  Lie  there  till  I  get  a 
ground-ash  and  I'll  cut  you  to  pieces.  If  you 
move,  I'll  chuck  you  out  of  the  window.' 
He  wound  his  hands  into  the  boy's  collar  and 
waistband,  and  had  actually  heaved  him  half  off 
the  ground  before  the  others  with  one  accord 
dropped  on  his  head,  shoulders,  and  legs.  He 
fought  them  crazily  in  an  awful  hissing  silence. 
Stalky's  sensitive  nose  was  rubbed  along  the  floor  : 
Beetle  received  a  jolt  in  the  wind  that  sent  him 
whistling  and  crowing  against  the  wall ;  Perowne's 
forehead  was  cut,  and  Malpass  came  out  with  an 
eye  that  explained  itself  like  a  dying  rainbow 
through  a  whole  week. 

'  Mad  !  Quite  mad  ! '  said  Stalky,  and  for  the 
third    time    wriggled    back    to    Winton's    throat. 


260     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

The  door  opened  and  King  came  in,  Hartopp's 
little  figure  just  behind  him.  The  mound  on  the 
floor  panted  and  heaved  but  did  not  rise,  for 
Winton  still  squirmed  vengefully.  '  Only  a  little 
play,  sir,'  said  Perowne.  '  'Only  hit  my  head 
against  a  form.'     This  was  quite  true. 

'  Oh,'  said  King.  '  Dimovit  obstantes  propinqnos. 
You,  I  presume,  are  the  populus  delaying  Winton's 
return  to — Mullins,  eh  ? ' 

'  No,  sir,'  said  Stalky  behind  his  claret-coloured 
handkerchief.      '  We're  the  maerentes  amicos.' 

1  Not  bad  !  You  see,  some  of  it  sticks  after 
all,'  King  chuckled  to  Hartopp,  and  the  two 
masters  left  without  further  inquiries. 

The  boys  sat  still  on  the  now  passive  Winton. 

*  Well,'  said  Stalky  at  last,  '  of  all  the  putrid 
he-asses,  Pater,  you  are  the ' 

1  I'm  sorry.  I'm  awfully  sorry,'  Winton  began, 
and  they  let  him  rise.  He  held  out  his  hand  to 
the  bruised  and  bewildered  Vernon.  '  Sorry, 
Paddy.  I — I  must  have  lost  my  temper.  I — I 
don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  me.' 

'  'Fat  lot  of  good  that'll  do  my  face  at  tea,' 
Vernon  grunted.  '  Why  couldn't  you  say  there 
was  something  wrong  with  you  instead  of  lamming 
out  like  a  lunatic?      Is  my  lip  puffy?  ' 

*  Just  a  trifle.  Look  at  my  beak  !  Well,  we 
got  all  these  pretty  marks  at  footer — owin'  to  the 
zeal  with  which  we  played  the  game,'  said  Stalky, 
dusting  himself.  '  But  d'you  think  you're  fit  to 
be  let  loose  again,  Pater  ?  'Sure  you  don't  want 
to  kill  another  sub-prefect  ?  I  wish  /  was  Pot. 
I'd  cut  your  sprightly  young  soul  out/ 


REGULUS  261 

'  I  s'pose  I  ought  to  go  to  Pot  now,'  said 
Winton. 

*  And  let  all  the  other  asses  see  you  lookin'  like 
this  !  Not  much.  We'll  all  come  up  to  Number 
Five  Study  and  wash  off  in  hot  water.  Beetle,  you 
aren't  damaged.  Go  along  and  light  the  gas- 
stove.' 

'  There's  a  tin  of  cocoa  in  my  study  somewhere,' 
Perowne  shouted  after  him.  '  Rootle  round  till 
you  find  it,  and  take  it  up.' 

Separately,  by  different  roads,  Vernon's  jersey 
pulled  half  over  his  head,  the  boys  repaired  to 
Number  Five  Study.  Little  Hartopp  and  King, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  leaned  over  the  banisters  of 
King's  landing  and  watched. 

'Ve-ry  human,'  said  little  Hartopp.  'Your 
virtuous  Winton,  having  got  himself  into  trouble, 
takes  it  out  of  my  poor  old  Paddy.  I  wonder 
what  precise  lie  Paddy  will  tell  about  his  face.' 

1  But  surely  you  aren't  going  to  embarrass  him 
by  asking  ? '  said  King. 

*  Tour  boy  won,'  said  Hartopp. 

'To  go  back  to  what  we  were  discussing,'  said 
King  quickly,  '  do  you  pretend  that  your  modern 
system  of  inculcating  unrelated  facts  about  chlorine, 
for  instance,  all  of  which  may  be  proved  fallacies 
by  the  time  the  boys  grow  up,  can  have  any  real 
bearing  on  education — even  the  low  type  of  it  that 
examiners  expect  ? ' 

'  I  maintain  nothing.  But  is  it  any  worse 
than  your  Chinese  reiteration  of  uncomprehended 
syllables  in  a  dead  tongue  ? ' 

'  Dead,  forsooth  ! '     King  fairly  danced.     '  The 


262     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

only  living  tongue  on  earth  !      Chinese  !     On  my 
word,  Hartopp  ! ' 

'  And  at  the  end  of  seven  years — how  often 
have  I  said  it  ?'  Hartopp  went  on, — 'seven  years  of 
two  hundred  and  twenty  days  of  six  hours  each, 
your  victims  go  away  with  nothing,  absolutely 
nothing,  except,  perhaps,  if  they've  been  very 
attentive,  a  dozen — no,  I'll  grant  you  twenty — one 
score  of  totally  unrelated  Latin  tags  which  any 
child  of  twelve  could  have  absorbed  in  two 
terms.' 

'  But — but  can't  you  realise  that  if  our  system 
brings  later — at  any  rate — at  a  pinch — a  simple 
understanding — grammar  and  Latinity  apart — a 
mere  glimpse  of  the  significance  (foul  word  !)  of, 
we'll  say,  one  Ode  of  Horace,  one  twenty  lines  of 
Virgil,  we've  got  what  we  poor  devils  of  ushers 
are  striving  after  ? ' 

'  And  what  might  that  be  ? '  said  Hartopp. 

c  Balance,  proportion,  perspective — life.  Your 
scientific  man  is  the  unrelated  animal — the  beast 
without  background.  Haven't  you  ever  realised 
that  in  your  atmosphere  of  stinks  ? ' 

'  Meantime  you  make  them  lose  life  for  the 
sake  of  living,  eh  ? ' 

'  Blind  again,  Hartopp  !  I  told  you  about 
Paddy's  quotation  this  morning.  (But  he  made 
prohrosis  a  verb,  he  did  !)  You  yourself  heard 
young  Corkran's  reference  to  maerentes  amicos.  It 
sticks — a  little  of  it  sticks  among  the  barbarians.' 

'  Absolutely  and  essentially  Chinese,'  said  little 
Hartopp,  who,  alone  of  the  common-room,  refused 
to  be  outfaced  by  King.     '  But  I  don't  yet  under- 


REGULUS  263 

stand  how  Paddy  came  to  be  licked  by  Winton. 
Paddy's  supposed  to  be  something  of  a  boxer.' 

'  Beware  of  vinegar  made  from  honey,'  King 
replied.  '  Pater,  like  some  other  people,  is  patient 
and  long-suffering,  but  he  has  his  limits.  The 
Head  is  oppressing  him  damnably,  too.  As  I 
pointed  out,  the  boy  has  practically  been  in  the 
First  Fifteen  since  term  began.' 

'  But,  my  dear  fellow,  I've  known  you  give  a 
boy  an  impot  and  refuse  him  leave  off  games, 
again  and  again.' 

'  Ah,  but  that  was  when  there  was  real  need  to 
get  at  some  oaf  who  couldn't  be  sensitised  in  any 
other  way.  Now,  in  our  esteemed  Head's  action 
I  see  nothing  but ' 

The  conversation  from  this  point  does  not 
concern  us. 

Meantime  Winton,  very  penitent  and  especially 
polite  towards  Vernon,  was  being  cheered  with 
cocoa  in  Number  Five  Study.  They  had  some 
difficulty  in  stemming  the  flood  of  his  apologies. 
He  himself  pointed  out  to  Vernon  that  he  had 
attacked  a  sub-prefect  for  no  reason  whatever, 
and,  therefore,  deserved  official  punishment. 

'I  can't  think  what  was  the  matter  with  me 
to-day,'  he  mourned.  '  Ever  since  that  blasted 
mouse  business ' 

'Well,  then,  don't  think,'  said  Stalky.  'Or 
do  you  want  Paddy  to  make  a  row  about  it  before 
all  the  school  ?  ' 

Here  Vernon  was  understood  to  say  that  he 
would  see  Winton  and  all  the  school  somewhere 
else. 


264     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  And  if  you  imagine  Perowne  and  Malpass 
and  me  are  goin'  to  give  evidence  at  a  prefects' 
meeting  just  to  soothe  your  beastly  conscience, 
you  jolly  well  err,'  said  Beetle.  '  I  know  what 
you  did.' 

*  What  ? '  croaked  Pater,  out  of  the  valley  of 
his  humiliation. 

4  You  went  Berserk.  I've  read  all  about  it  in 
Hypatia* 

'  What's  "  going  Berserk  "  ?  '  Winton  asked. 

'  Never  you  mind,'  was  the  reply.  *  Now, 
don't  you  feel  awfully  weak  and  seedy  ? ' 

'  I  am  rather  tired,'  said  Winton,  sighing. 

1  That's  what  you  ought  to  be.  You've  gone 
Berserk  and  pretty  soon  you'll  go  to  sleep.  But 
you'll  probably  be  liable  to  fits  of  it  all  your  life,' 
Beetle  concluded.  '  'Shouldn't  wonder  if  you 
murdered  some  one  some  day.' 

'  Shut  up — you  and  your  Berserks  ! '  said  Stalky. 
'  Go  to  Mullins  now  and  get  it  over,  Pater.' 

'  I  call  it  filthy  unjust  of  the  Head,'  said 
Vernon.  '  Anyhow,  you've  given  me  my  lickin', 
old  man.      I  hope  Pot  '11  give  you  yours.' 

*  I'm  awfully  sorry  —  awfully  sorry,'  was 
Winton's  last  word. 

It  was  the  custom  in  that  consulship  to  deal 
with  games'  defaulters  between  five  o'clock  call- 
over  and  tea.  Mullins,  who  was  old  enough  to 
pity,  did  not  believe  in  letting  boys  wait  through 
the  night  till  the  chill  of  the  next  morning  for 
their  punishments.  He  was  finishing  off  the  last 
of  the  small  fry  and  their  excuses  when  Winton 
arrived. 


REGULUS  265 

*  But,  please,  Mullins '  —  this  was  Babcock 
tertius,  a  dear  little  twelve-year-old  mother's 
darling — '  I  had  an  awful  hack  on  the  knee.  I've 
been  to  the  Matron  about  it  and  she  gave  me 
some  iodine.  I've  been  rubbing  it  in  all  day. 
I  thought  that  would  be  an  excuse  off.' 

*  Let's  have  a  look  at  it,'  said  the  impassive 
Mullins.  '  That's  a  shin-bruise — about  a  week 
old.     Touch  your  toes.     I'll  give  you  the  iodine.' 

Babcock  yelled  loudly  as  he  had  many  times 
before.  The  face  of  Jevons,  aged  eleven,  a  new 
boy  that  dark  wet  term,  low  in  the  House,  low  in 
the  Lower  School,  and  lowest  of  all  in  his  home- 
sick little  mind,  turned  white  at  the  horror  of 
the  sight.  They  could  hear  his  working  lips  part 
stickily  as  Babcock  wailed  his  way  out  of  hearing. 

'  Hullo,  Jevons  !  What  brings  you  here  ?  ' 
said  Mullins. 

'  Pl-ease,  sir,  I  went  for  a  walk  with  Babcock 
tertius.' 

'  Did  you  ?  Then  I  bet  you  went  to  the  tuck- 
shop — and  you  paid,  didn't  you  ? ' 

A  nod.     Jevons  was  too  terrified  to  speak. 

*  Of  course,  and  I  bet  Babcock  told  you  that 
old  Pot  'ud  let  you  off  because  it  was  the  first 
time.' 

Another  nod  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  in  it. 

'  All  right.'  Mullins  picked  Jevons  up  before 
he  could  guess  what  was  coming,  laid  him  on 
the  table  with  one  hand,  with  the  other  gave  him 
three  emphatic  spanks,  then  held  him  high  in  air. 

4  Now  you  tell  Babcock  tertius  that  he's  got 
you  a  licking  from  me,  and  see  you  jolly  well  pay 


266     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

it  back  to  him.    And  when  you're  prefect  of  games 
don't  you  let  any  one  shirk  his  footer  without  a 
written  excuse.     Where  d'you  play  in  your  game  ?' 
4  Forward,  sir.' 

*  You  can  do  better  than  that.  I've  seen  you 
run  like  a  young  buck-rabbit.  Ask  Dickson  from 
me  to  try  you  as  three-quarter  next  game,  will 
you?      Cut  along.' 

Jevons  left,  warm  for  the  first  time  that  day, 
enormously  set  up  in  his  own  esteem,  and  very 
hot  against  the  deceitful  Babcock. 

Mullins  turned  to  Winton.  '  Your  name's  on 
the  list,  Pater.'     Winton  nodded. 

'  I  know  it.  The  Head  landed  me  with  an 
impot  for  that  mouse-business  at  mechanical 
drawing.     No  excuse.' 

'  He  meant  it  then  ? '  Mullins  jerked  his  head 
delicately  towards  the  ground-ash  on  the  table. 
'  I  heard  something  about  it.' 

Winton  nodded.  '  A  rotten  thing  to  do,'  he 
said.  *  Can't  think  what  I  was  doing  ever  to  do 
it.  It  counts  against  a  fellow  so  ;  and  there's 
some  more  too ' 

1  All  right,  Pater.  Just  stand  clear  of  our  photo- 
bracket,  will  you  ? ' 

The  little  formality  over,  there  was  a  pause. 
Winton  swung  round,  yawned  in  Pot's  astonished 
face  and  staggered  towards  the  window-seat. 

1  What's  the  matter  v/ith  you,  Dick  ?     Ill  ? ' 

'  No.  Perfectly  all  right,  thanks.  Only — only 
a  little  sleepy.'  Winton  stretched  himself  out, 
and  then  and  there  fell  deeply  and  placidly  asleep. 

*  It  isn't  a  faint,'  said  the  experienced  Mullins, 


REGULUS  267 

'  or  his  pulse  wouldn't  act.  'Tisn't  a  fit  or  he'd 
snort  and  twitch.  It  can't  be  sunstroke,  this  term, 
and  he  hasn't  been  over-training  for  anything.' 
He  opened  Winton's  collar,  packed  a  cushion  under 
his  head,  threw  a  rug  over  him  and  sat  down  to 
listen  to  the  regular  breathing.  Before  long 
Stalky  arrived,  on  pretence  of  borrowing  a  book. 
He  looked  at  the  window-seat. 

'  'Noticed  anything  wrong  with  Winton  lately  ?' 
said  Mullins. 

'  'Notice  anything  wrong  with  my  beak  ? '  Stalky 
replied.  *  Pater  went  Berserk  after  call-over,  and 
fell  on  a  lot  of  us  for  jesting  with  him  about  his 
impot.     You  ought  to  see  Malpass's  eye.' 

*  You  mean  that  Pater  fought  ?  '  said  Mullins. 

'  Like  a  devil.  Then  he  nearly  went  to  sleep 
in  our  study  just  now.  I  expect  he'll  be  all  right 
when  he  wakes  up.  Rummy  business  !  Con- 
scientious old  bargee.  You  ought  to  have  heard 
his  apologies.' 

'But  Pater  can't  fight  one  little  bit,'  Mullins 
repeated. 

'  'T wasn't  fighting.  He  just  tried  to  murder 
every  one.'  Stalky  described  the  affair,  and  when 
he  left  Mullins  went  off  to  take  counsel  with  the 
Head,  who,  out  of  a  cloud  of  blue  smoke,  told  him 
that  all  would  yet  be  well. 

'  Winton,'  said  he,  '  is  a  little  stiff  in  his  moral 
joints.  He'll  get  over  that.  If  he  asks  you 
whether  to-day's  doings  will  count  against 
him  in  his ' 

1  But  you  know  it's  important  to  him,  sir. 
His  people  aren't — very  well  off,'  said  Mullins. 


268     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

1  That's  why  I'm  taking  all  this  trouble.  You 
must  reassure  him,  Pot.  I  have  overcrowded  him 
with  new  experiences.  Oh,  by  the  way,  has  his 
Cap  come  ? ' 

*  It  came  at  dinner,  sir.'     Mullins  laughed. 
Sure    enough,   when    he   waked    at    tea-time, 

Winton  proposed  to  take  Mullins  all  through 
every  one  of  his  day's  lapses  from  grace,  and  '  Do 
you  think  it  will  count  against  me  ? '  said  he. 

1  Don't  you  fuss  so  much  about  yourself  and 
your  silly  career,'  said  Mullins.  '  You're  all 
right.  And  oh — here's  your  First  Cap  at  last. 
Shove  it  up  on  the  bracket  and  come  on  to 
tea.' 

They  met  King  on  their  way,  stepping  statelily 
and  rubbing  his  hands.  '  I  have  applied/  said 
he,  '  for  the  services  of  an  additional  sub-prefect 
in  Carton's  unlamented  absence.  Your  name, 
Winton,  seems  to  have  found  favour  with  the 
powers  that  be,  and — and  all  things  considered — 
I  am  disposed  to  give  my  support  to  the  nomina- 
tion.    You  are  therefore  a  quasi-lictor.' 

*  Then  it  didn't  count  against  me,'  Winton 
gasped  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing. 

A  Captain  of  Games  can  jest  with  a  sub- 
prefect  publicly. 

'  You  utter  ass  ! '  said  Mullins,  and  caught  him 
by  the  back  of  his  stiff  neck  and  ran  him  down 
to  the  hall  where  the  sub-prefects,  who  sit  below 
the  salt,  made  him  welcome  with  the  economical 
bloater-paste  of  mid-term. 

King  and  little  Hartopp  were  sparring  in  the 


REGULUS  269 

Reverend  John  Gillett's  study  at  10  p.m. — classical 
versus  modern  as  usual. 

'  Character — proportion — background,'  snarled 
King.      'That  is  the  essence  of  the  Humanities.' 

'Analects  of  Confucius,' little  Hartopp  answered. 

'  Time,'  said  the  Reverend  John  behind  the  soda- 
water.  '  You  men  oppress  me.  Hartopp,  what 
did  you  say  to  Paddy  in  your  dormitories  to-night? 
~E.vzn  you  couldn't  have  overlooked  his  face.' 

c  But  I  did,'  said  Hartopp  calmly.  '  I  wasn't 
even  humorous  about  it,  as  some  clerics  might 
have  been.  I  went  straight  through  and  said 
naught.' 

'  Poor  Paddy  !  Now,  for  my  part,'  said  King, 
'  and  you  know  I  am  not  lavish  in  my  praises,  I 
consider  Winton  a  first-class  type  ;  absolutely  first- 
class.' 

'  Ha-ardly,'  said  the  Reverend  John.  '  First- 
class  of  the  second  class,  I  admit.  The  very  best 
type  of  second  class  but ' — he  shook  his  head — '  it 
should  have  been  a  rat.  Pater'll  never  be  anything 
more  than  a  Colonel  of  Engineers.' 

'  What  do  you  base  that  verdict  on  ? '  said  King 
stiffly. 

'  He  came  to  me  after  prayers — with  all  his 
conscience.' 

'  Poor  old  Pater.  Was  it  the  mouse  ? '  said 
little  Hartopp. 

'  That,  and  what  he  called  his  uncontrollable 
temper,  and  his  responsibilities  as  sub-prefect.' 

'  And  you  ? ' 

'  If  we  had  had  what  is  vulgarly  called  a  pi-jaw 
he'd   have   had   hysterics.     So   I   recommended   a 


270     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

dose  of  Epsom  salts.  He'll  take  it,  too — con- 
scientiously. Don't  eat  me,  King.  Perhaps  he'll 
be  a  K.C.B.' 

Ten  o'clock  struck  and  the  Army  class  boys  in 
the  further  studies  coming  to  their  houses  after  an 
hour's  extra  work  passed  along  the  gravel  path 
below.  Some  one  was  chanting,  to  the  tune  of 
'  White  sand  and  grey  sand,'  Dis  te  minor  em  quod 
geris  imperas.  He  stopped  outside  Mullins'  study. 
They  heard  Mullins'  window  slide  up  and  then 
Stalky's  voice  : 

4  Ah  !  Good-evening,  Mullins,  my  barbarus 
torior.  We're  the  waits.  We  have  come  to  inquire 
after  the  local  Berserk.  Is  he  doin'  as  well  as  can 
be  expected  in  his  new  caree-ah  ? ' 

'  Better  than  you  will,  in  a  sec,  Stalky,'  Mullins 
grunted. 

1  'Glad  of  that.  We  thought  he'd  like  to  know 
that  Paddy  has  been  carried  to  the  sick-house  in 
ravin'  delirium.  They  think  it's  concussion  of  the 
brain/ 

1  Why,  he  was  all  right  at  prayers,'  Winton 
began  earnestly, .  and  they  heard  a  laugh  in  the 
background  as  Mullins  slammed  down  the  window. 

'  'Night,  Regulus,'  Stalky  sang  out,  and  the 
light  footsteps  went  on. 

'You  see.  It  sticks.  A  little  of  it  sticks 
among  the  barbarians,'  said  King. 

'  Amen,'  said  the  Reverend  John.     '  Go  to  bed.' 


A  TRANSLATION 
Horace,  Bk.  V.  Ode  3 

There  are  whose  study  is  of  smells, 
And  to  attentive  schools  rehearse 

How  something  mixed  with  something  else 
Makes  something  worse. 


Some  cultivate  in  broths  impure 
The  clients  of  our  body — these, 

Increasing  without  Venus,  cure, 
Or  cause,  disease. 


Others  the  heated  wheel  extol, 

And  all  its  offspring,  whose  concern 

Is  how  to  make  it  farthest  roll 
And  fastest  turn. 


Me,  much  incurious  if  the  hour 
Present,  or  to  be  paid  for,  brings 

Me  to  Brundusium  by  the  power 
Of  wheels  or  wings  ; 
271 


272     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Me,  in  whose  breast  no  flame  hath  burned 
Life-long,  save  that  by  Pindar  lit, 

Such  lore  leaves  cold  :   I  am  not  turned 
Aside  to  it 

More  than  when,  sunk  in  thought  profound 
Of  what  the  unaltering  Gods  require, 

My  steward  (friend  but  slave)  brings  round 
Logs  for  my  fire. 


The  Edge  of  the  Evening 
(1913) 

Ah  !  What  avails  the  classic  bent, 

And  what  the  chosen  word, 
Against  the  undoctored  incident 

That  actually  occurred  ? 

And  what  is  Art  whereto  we  press 

Through  paint  and  prose  and  rhyme — 

When  Nature  in  her  nakedness 
Defeats  us  every  time  ? 

'  Hi  !  Hi !  Hold  your  horses  !  Stop !  .  .  . 
Well !  Well ! '  A  lean  man  in  a  sable  -  lined 
overcoat  leaped  from  a  private  car  and  barred  my 
way  up  Pall  Mall.  '  You  don't  know  me  ? 
You're  excusable.  I  wasn't  wearing  much  of 
anything  last  time  we  met — in  South  Africa.' 

The  scales  fell  from  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  him 
once  more  in  a  sky-blue  army  shirt,  behind  barbed 
wire,  among  Dutch  prisoners  bathing  at  Simons- 
town,  more  than  a  dozen  years  ago.1  *  Why,  it's 
Zigler — Laughton  O.  Zigler  I'  I  cried.  'Well, 
I  am  glad  to  see  you.' 

1  '  The  Captive '  :  Traffics  and  Discoveries. 

273  T 


274     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Oh  no !  You  don't  work  any  of  your 
English  on  me.  "So  glad  to  see  you,  doncher 
know— an'  ta-ta  !"     Do  you  reside  in  this  village  ?' 

'  No.      I'm  up  here  buying  stores.' 

1  Then  you  take  my  automobile.  Where  to  ? 
.  .  .  Oh,  I  know  them  !  My  Lord  Marshalton 
is  one  of  the  Directors.  Pigott,  drive  to  the 
Army  and  Navy  Co-operative  Supply  Association 
Limited,  Victoria  Street,  Westminister.' 

He  settled  himself  on  the  deep  dove-colour 
pneumatic  cushions,  and  his  smile  was  like  the 
turning  on  of  all  the  electrics.  His  teeth  were 
whiter  than  the  ivory  fittings.  He  smelt  of  rare 
soap  and  cigarettes — such  cigarettes  as  he  handed 
me  from  a  golden  box  with  an  automatic  lighter. 
On  my  side  of  the  car  was  a  gold-mounted  mirror, 
card  and  toilette  case.      I  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

'  Yes,'  he  nodded,  '  two  years  after  I  quit  the 
Cape.  She's  not  an  Ohio  girl,  though.  She's  in 
the  country  now.  Is  that  right?  She's  at  our 
little  place  in  the  country.  We'll  go  there  as 
soon  as  you're  through  with  your  grocery-list. 
Engagements  ?  The  only  engagement  you've  got 
is  to  grab  your  grip — get  your  bag  from  your  hotel, 
I  mean — and  come  right  along  and  meet  her. 
You  are  the  captive  of  my  bow  and  spear  now.' 

'  I  surrender,'  I  said  meekly.  *  Did  the  Zigler 
automatic  gun  do  all  this  ? '  I  pointed  to  the  car 
fittings. 

'  Psha  !  Think  of  your  rememberin'  that ! 
Well,  no.  The  Zigler  is  a  great  gun — the  greatest 
ever — but  life's  too  short,  an'  too  interestin',  to 
squander  on  pushing  her  in  military  society.     I've 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     275 

leased  my  rights  in  her  to  a  Pennsylvanian-Tran- 
sylvanian  citizen  full  of  mentality  and  moral 
uplift-  If  those  things  weigh  with  the  Chancel- 
leries of  Europe,  he  will  make  good  and — I  shall 
be  surprised.     Excuse  me  ! ' 

He  bared  his  head  as  we  passed  the  statue  of 
the  Great  Queen  outside  Buckingham  Palace. 

*  A  very  great  lady  ! '  said  he.  *  I  have  enjoyed 
her  hospitality.  She  represents  one  of  the  most 
wonderful  institutions  in  the  world.  The  next  is 
the  one  we  are  going  to.  Mrs.  Zigler  uses  'em,  and 
they  break  her  up  every  week  on  returned  empties.' 

'  Oh,  you  mean  the  Stores  ?  '  I  said. 

'  Mrs.  Zigler  means  it  more.  They  are  quite 
ambassadorial  in  their  outlook.  I  guess  I'll  wait 
outside  and  pray  while  you  wrestle  with  'em.' 

My  business  at  the  Stores  finished,  and  my  bag 
retrieved  from  the  hotel,  his  moving  palace  slid  us 
into  the  country. 

*  I  owe  it  to  you,'  Zigler  began  as  smoothly  as 
the  car,  '  to  tell  you  what  I  am  now.  I  represent 
the  business  end  of  the  American  Invasion.  Not 
the  blame  cars  themselves — I  wouldn't  be  found 
dead  in  one — but  the  tools  that  make  'em.  I  am 
the  Zigler  Higher-Speed  Tool  and  Lathe  Trust. 
The  Trust,  sir,  is  entirely  my  own — in  my  own 
inventions.  I  am  the  Renzalaer  ten -cylinder 
aerial — the  lightest  aeroplane-engine  on  the  market 
— one  price,  one  power,  one  guarantee.  I  am 
the  Orlebar  Paper-welt,  Pulp-panel  Company  for 
aeroplane  bodies  ;  and  I  am  the  Rush  Silencer  for 
military  aeroplanes — absolutely  silent — which  the 
Continent     leases     under     royalty.     With     three 


276     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

exceptions,  the  British  aren't  wise  to  it  yet. 
That's  all  I  represent  at  present.  You  saw  me 
take  off  my  hat  to  your  late  Queen  ?  I  owe  every 
cent  I  have  to  that  great  an'  good  Lady.  Yes, 
sir,  I  came  out  of  Africa,  after  my  eighteen  months' 
rest-cure  and  open-air  treatment  and  sea-bathing, 
as  her  prisoner  of  war,  like  a  giant  refreshed. 
There  wasn't  anything  could  hold  me,  when  I'd 
got  my  hooks  into  it,  after  that  experience.  And 
to  you  as  a  representative  British  citizen,  I  say 
here  and  now  that  I  regard  you  as  the  founder  of 
the  family  fortune — Tommy's  and  mine.' 

'  But  I  only  gave  you  some  papers  and  tobacco.' 

*  What  more  does  any  citizen  need  ?  The 
Cullinan  diamond  wouldn't  have  helped  me  as 
much  then  ;  an' — talking  about  South  Africa,  tell 
me ' 

We  talked  about  South  Africa  till  the  car 
stopped  at  the  Georgian  lodge  of  a  great  park. 

'  We'll  get  out  here.  I  want  to  show  you  a 
rather  sightly  view,'  said  Zigler. 

We  walked,  perhaps,  half  a  mile,  across  timber- 
dotted  turf,  past  a  lake,  entered  a  dark  rhodo- 
dendron-planted wood,  ticking  with  the  noise  of 
pheasants'  feet,  and  came  out  suddenly,  where  five 
rides  met,  at  a  small  classic  temple  between 
lichened  stucco  statues  which  faced  a  circle  of  turf, 
several  acres  in  extent.  Irish  yews,  of  a  size  that 
I  had  never  seen  before,  walled  the  sunless  circle 
like  cliffs  of  riven  obsidian,  except  at  the  lower 
end,  where  it  gave  on  to  a  stretch  of  undulating 
bare  ground  ending  in  a  timbered  slope  half-a-mile 
away. 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     277 

'  That's  where  the  old  Marshalton  race-course 
used  to  be,'  said  Zigler.  '  That  ice-house  is  called 
Flora's  Temple.  Nell  Gwynne  and  Mrs.  Siddons 
an'  Taglioni  an'  all  that  crowd  used  to  act  plays 
here  for  King  George  the  Third.  Wasn't  it  ? 
Well,  George  is  the  only  king  I  play.  Let  it  go 
at  that.  This  circle  was  the  stage,  I  guess.  The 
kings  an'  the  nobility  sat  in  Flora's  Temple.  I 
forget  who  sculped  these  statues  at  the  door. 
They're  the  Comic  and  Tragic  Muse.  But  it's  a 
sightly  view,  ain't  it  ? ' 

The  sunlight  was  leaving  the  park.  I  caught 
a  glint  of  silver  to  the  southward  beyond  the 
wooded  ridge. 

'  That's  the  ocean — the  Channel,  I  mean,'  said 
Zigler.  *  It's  twenty-three  miles  as  a  man  flies. 
A  sightly  view,  ain't  it  ? ' 

I  looked  at  the  severe  yews,  the  dumb  yelling 
mouths  of  the  two  statues,  at  the  blue-green 
shadows  on  the  unsunned  grass,  and  at  the  still 
bright  plain  in  front  where  some  deer  were  feeding. 

I  It's  a  most  dramatic  contrast,  but  I  think  it 
would  be  better  on  a  summer's  day,'  I  said,  and 
we  went  on,  up  one  of  the  noiseless  rides,  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  at  least,  till  we  came  to  the  porticoed 
front  of  an  enormous  Georgian  pile.  Four  foot- 
men revealed  themselves  in  a  hall  hung  with 
pictures. 

I I  hired  this  off  of  my  Lord  Marshalton,' 
Zigler  explained,  while  they  helped  us  out  of  our 
coats  under  the  severe  eyes  of  ruffed  and  peri- 
wigged ancestors.  '  Ya-as.  They  always  look  at 
me  too,  as   if    I'd    blown    in    from    the    gutter. 


278     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Which,  of  course,  I  have.  That's  Mary,  Lady 
Marshalton.  Old  man  Joshua  painted  her.  Do 
you  see  any  likeness  to  my  Lord  Marshalton  ? 
Why,  haven't  you  ever  met  up  with  him  ?  He 
was  Captain  Mankeltow  —  my  Royal  British 
Artillery  captain  that  blew  up  my  gun  in  the  war, 
an'  then  tried  to  bury  me  against  my  religious 
principles.1  Ya-as.  His  father  died  and  he  got 
the  lordship.  That  was  about  all  he  got  by  the 
time  that  your  British  death-duties  were  through 
with  him.  So  he  said  I'd  oblige  him  by  hiring 
his  ranch.  It's  a  hell  an'  a  half  of  a  proposition 
to  handle,  but  Tommy — Mrs.  Laughton — under- 
stands it.  Come  right  in  to  the  parlour  and  be 
very  welcome.' 

He  guided  me,  hand  on  shoulder,  into  a  babble 
of  high-pitched  talk  and  laughter  that  filled  a  vast 
drawing-room.  He  introduced  me  as  the  founder 
of  the  family  fortunes  to  a  little,  lithe,  dark-eyed 
woman  whose  speech  and  greeting  were  of  the 
soft-lipped  South.  She  in  turn  presented  me  to 
her  mother,  a  black-browed,  snowy -haired  old 
lady  with  a  cap  of  priceless  Venetian  point,  hands 
that  must  have  held  many  hearts  in  their  time, 
and  a  dignity  as  unquestioned  and  unquestioning 
as  an  empress.  She  was,  indeed,  a  Burton  of 
Savannah,  who,  on  their  own  ground,  out-rank 
the  Lees  of  Virginia.  The  rest  of  the  company 
came  from  Buffalo,  Cincinnati,  Cleveland  and 
Chicago,  with  here  and  there  a  softening  southern 
strain.  A  party  of  young  folk  popped  corn 
beneath   a   mantelpiece   surmounted   by  a    Gains- 

1  '  The  Captive  '  :  Traffics  and  Discoveries. 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     279 

borough.  Two  portly  men,  half  hidden  by  a 
cased  harp,  discussed,  over  sheaves  of  type- 
written documents,  the  terms  of  some  contract. 
A  knot  of  matrons  talked  servants — Irish  versus 
German  —  across  the  grand  piano.  A  youth 
ravaged  an  old  bookcase,  while  beside  him  a  tall 
girl  stared  at  the  portrait  of  a  woman  of  many 
loves,  dead  three  hundred  years,  but  now  leaping 
to  life  and  warning  under  the  shaded  frame-light. 
In  a  corner  half-a-dozen  girls  examined  the  glazed 
tables  that  held  the  decorations — English  and 
foreign — of  the  late  Lord  Marshalton. 

4  See  heah  !  Would  this  be  the  Ordeh  of  the 
Gyartah  ? '  one  said,  pointing. 

'  I  presoom  likely.  No !  The  Garter  has 
"  Honey  swore " — I  know  that  much.  This  is 
"  Tria  juncta  "  something.' 

1  Oh,  what's  that  cunning  little  copper  cross 
with  "  For  Valurr  "  ? '  a  third  cried. 

*  Say  !  Look  at  here  ! '  said  the  young  man  at 
the  bookcase.  *  Here's  a  first  edition  of  Handley 
Cross  and  a  Beewick's  Birds  right  next  to  it — 
just  like  so  many  best  sellers.     Look,  Maidie  !  ' 

The  girl  beneath  the  picture  half  turned  her 
body  but  not  her  eyes. 

*  You  don't  tell  me  ! '  she  said  slowly.  '  Their 
women  amounted  to  something  after  all.' 

'  But  Woman's  scope  and  outlook  was  vurry 
limmutted  in  those  days,'  one  of  the  matrons  put 
in,  from  the  piano. 

'  Limutted  ?  For  her'?  If  they  whurr,  I  guess 
she  was  the  limmut.  Who  was  she  ?  Peters, 
whurr's  the  cat'log  ? ' 


28o     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

A  thin  butler,  in  charge  of  two  footmen 
removing  the  tea-batteries,  slid  to  a  table  and 
handed  her  a  blue-and-gilt  book.  He  was  button- 
holed by  one  of  the  men  behind  the  harp,  who 
wished  to  get  a  telephone  call  through  to 
Edinburgh. 

*  The  local  office  shuts  at  six/  said  Peters. 
'  But  I  can  get  through  to  ' — he  named  some  town 
— '  in  ten  minutes,  sir.' 

*  That  suits  me.  You'll  find  me  here  when 
you've  hitched  up.  Oh,  say,  Peters !  We — 
Mister  Olpherts  an'  me  —  ain't  goin'  by  that 
early  morning  train  to-morrow — but  the  other  one 
— on  the  other  line — whatever  they  call  it.' 

'  The  nine  twenty-seven,  sir.  Yes,  sir.  Early 
breakfast  will  be  at  half-past  eight  and  the  car 
will  be  at  the  door  at  nine.' 

'  Peters  !  '  an  imperious  young  voice  called. 
*  What's  the  matteh  with  Lord  Marshalton's 
Ordeh  of  the  Gyartah  ?  We  cyan't  find  it 
anywheah.' 

'  Well,  miss,  I  have  heard  that  that  Order  is 
usually  returned  to  His  Majesty  on  the  death  of 
the  holder.  Yes,  miss.'  Then  in  a  whisper  to 
a  footman,  '  More  butter  for  the  pop-corn  in 
King  Charles's  Corner.'  He  stopped  behind  my 
chair.  '  Your  room  is  Number  Eleven,  sir.  May 
I  trouble  you  for  your  keys  ? ' 

He  left  the  room  with  a  six-year-old  maiden 
called  Alice  who  had  announced  she  would  not 
go  to  bed  '  'less  Peter,  Peter,  Punkin-eater  takes 
me — so  there  !  ' 

He  very  kindly  looked  in  on  me  for  a  moment 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     281 

as  I  was  dressing  for  dinner.  *  Not  at  all,  sir,' 
he  replied  to  some  compliment  I  paid  him.  '  I 
valeted  the  late  Lord  Marshalton  for  fifteen 
years.  He  was  very  abrupt  in  his  movements, 
sir.  As  a  rule  I  never  received  more  than  an 
hour's  notice  of  a  journey.  We  used  to  go  to 
Syria  frequently.  I  have  been  twice  to  Babylon. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Zigler's  requirements  are,  com- 
paratively speaking,  few.' 

'  But  the  guests  ? ' 

'  Very  little  out  of  the  ordinary  as  soon  as  one 
knows  their  ordinaries.  Extremely  simple,  if  I 
may  say  so,  sir.' 

I  had  the  privilege  of  taking  Mrs.  Burton 
in  to  dinner,  and  was  rewarded  with  an  entirely 
new,  and  to  me  rather  shocking,  view  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  who,  she  said,  had  wasted  the  heritage 
of  his  land  by  blood  and  fire,  and  had  surrendered 
the  remnant  to  aliens.  '  My  brother,  suh,'  she 
said,  '  fell  at  Gettysburg  in  order  that  Armenians 
should  colonise  New  England  to-day.  If  I  took 
any  interest  in  any  dam-Yankee  outside  of  my 
son-in-law  Laughton  yondah,  I  should  say  that  my 
brother's  death  had  been  amply  avenged.' 

The  man  at  her  right  took  up  the  challenge, 
and  the  war  spread.  Her  eyes  twinkled  over  the 
flames  she  had  lit. 

'  Don't  these  folk,'  she  said  a  little  later, 
'  remind  you  of  Arabs  picnicking  under  the 
Pyramids  ?  ' 

'  I've  never  seen  the  Pyramids,'  I  replied. 

'  Hm  !  I  didn't  know  you  were  as  English 
as  all  that.'     And  when  I  laughed,  '  Are  you  ? ' 


282     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Always.     It  saves  trouble.' 

'Now  that's  just  what  I  find  so  significant 
among  the  English ' — this  was  Alice's  mother, 
I  think,  with  one  elbow  well  forward  among  the 
salted  almonds.  '  Oh,  I  know  how  you  feel, 
Madam  Burton,  but  a  Northerner  like  myself — 
I'm  Buffalo — even  though  we  come  over  every 
year — notices  the  desire  for  comfort  in  England. 
There's  so  little  conflict  or  uplift  in  British 
society.' 

'  But  we  like  being  comfortable,'  I  said. 

'  I  know  it.  It's  very  characteristic.  But 
ain't  it  a  little,  just  a  little,  lacking  in  adaptability 
an'  imagination  ? ' 

'  They  haven't  any  need  for  adaptability,' 
Madam  Burton  struck  in.  '  They  haven't  any 
Ellis  Island  standards  to  live  up  to.' 

'  But  we  can  assimilate,'  the  Buffalo  woman 
charged  on. 

'  Now  you  have  done  it ! '  I  whispered  to  the 
old  lady  as  the  blessed  word  *  assimilation '  woke 
up  all  the  old  arguments  for  and  against. 

There  was  not  a  dull  moment  in  that  dinner  for 
me — nor  afterwards  when  the  boys  and  girls  at  the 
piano  played  the  rag-time  tunes  of  their  own  land, 
while  their  elders,  inexhaustiblyinterested,replunged 
into  the  discussion  of  that  land's  future,  till  there 
was  talk  of  coon-can.  When  all  the  company 
had  been  set  to  tables  Zigler  led  me  into  his 
book-lined  study,  where  I  noticed  he  kept  his 
golf-clubs,  and  spoke  simply  as  a  child,  gravely  as 
a  bishop,  of  the  years  that  were  past  since  our  last 
meeting.   .   .   . 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     283 

'That's  about  all,  I  guess — up  to  date,'  he 
said  when  he  had  unrolled  the  bright  map  of  his 
fortunes  across  three  continents.  '  Bein'  rich 
suits  me.  So  does  your  country,  sir.  My  own 
country  ?  You  heard  what  that  Detroit  man 
said  at  dinner.  "  A  Government  of  the  alien, 
by  the  alien,  for  the  alien."  Mother's  right,  too. 
Lincoln  killed  us.  From  the  highest  motives — 
but  he  killed  us.  Oh,  say,  that  reminds  me. 
'J'ever  kill  a  man  from  the  highest  motives  ? ' 

'  Not  from  any  motive — as  far  as  I  remember.' 

'  Well,  I  have.  It  don't  weigh  on  my  mind 
any,  but  it  was  interesting.  Life  is  interesting 
for  a  rich — for  any — man  in  England.  Ya-as  ! 
Life  in  England  is  like  settin'  in  the  front  row 
at  the  theatre  and  never  knowin'  when  the  whole 
blame  drama  won't  spill  itself  into  your  lap.  I 
didn't  always  know  that.  I  lie  abed  now,  and 
I  blush  to  think  of  some  of  the  breaks  I  made 
in  South  Africa.  About  the  British.  Not  your 
official  method  of  doin'  business.  But  the  Spirit. 
I  was  'way,  'way  off  on  the  Spirit.  Are  you 
acquainted  with  any  other  country  where  you'd 
have  to  kill  a  man  or  two  to  get  at  the  National 
Spirit  ? ' 

'  Well,'  I  answered,  '  next  to  marrying  one  of 
its  women,  killing  one  of  its  men  makes  for 
pretty  close  intimacy  with  any  country.  I  take 
it  you  killed  a  British  citizen.' 

*  Why,  no.  Our  syndicate  confined  its  opera- 
tions to  aliens — dam-fool  aliens.  .  .  .  'J'ever 
know  an  English  lord   called  Lundie l  ?     Looks 

1  '  The  Puzzler '  :  Actions  and  Reactions. 


284     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

like  a  frame-food  and  soap  advertisement.  I 
imagine  he  was  in  your  Supreme  Court  before  he 
came  into  his  lordship.' 

1  He  is  a  lawyer — what  we  call  a  Law  Lord — 
a  Judge  of  Appeal — not  a  real  hereditary  lord.' 

*  That's  as  much  beyond  me  as  this  ! '  Zigler 
slapped  a  fat  Debrett  on  the  table.  *  But  I 
presoom  this  unreal  Law  Lord  Lundie  is  kind  o' 
real  in  his  decisions  ?  I  judged  so.  And — one 
more  question.    'Ever  meet  a  man  called  Walen  ? ' 

'  D'you  mean  Burton-Walen,  the  editor  of 
,'  I  mentioned  the  journal. 

'  That's  him.  'Looks  like  a  tough,  talks  like 
a  Maxim,  and  trains  with  kings.' 

*  He  does,'  I  said.  '  Burton-Walen  knows  ail 
the  crowned  heads  of  Europe  intimately.  It's  his 
hobby.' 

'  Well,  there's  the  whole  outfit  for  you  — 
exceptin'  my  Lord  Marshalton,  ne  Mankeltow, 
an'  me.  All  active  murderers — specially  the  Law 
Lord — or  accessories  after  the  fact.  And  what 
do  they  hand  you  out  for  that,  in  this  country  ? ' 

'Twenty  years,  I  believe,'  was  my  reply. 

He  reflected  a  moment. 

1  No-o-o,'  he  said,  and  followed  it  with  -a 
smoke-ring.  '  Twenty  months  at  the  Cape  is  my 
limit.  Say,  murder  ain't  the  soul  -  shatterin' 
event  those  nature-fakers  in  the  magazines  make 
out.  It  develops  naturally  like  any  other  pro- 
position. .  .  .  Say,  j'ever  play  this  golf  game? 
It's  come  up  in  the  States  from  Maine  to  California, 
an'  we're  prodoocin'  all  the  champions  in  sight. 
Not  a  business  man's  play,  but  interestin'.      I've 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     285 

got  a  golf-links  in  the  park  here  that  they  tell  me 
is  the  finest  inland  course  ever.  I  had  to  pay  extra 
for  that  when  I  hired  the  ranche — last  year.  It 
was  just  before  I  signed  the  papers  that  our  murder 
eventuated.  My  Lord  Marshalton  he  asked  me 
down  for  the  week-end  to  fix  up  something  or 
other — about  Peters  and  the  linen,  I  think  'twas. 
Mrs.  Zigler  took  a  holt  of  the  proposition.  She 
understood  Peters  from  the  word  "go."  There 
wasn't  any  house-party  ;  only  fifteen  or  twenty 
folk.  A  full  house  is  thirty-two,  Tommy  tells 
me.  'Guess  we  must  be  near  on  that  to-night. 
In  the  smoking-room  here,  my  Lord  Marshalton 
— Mankeltow  that  was — introduces  me  to  this 
Walen  man  with  the  nose.  He'd  been  in  the 
War  too,  from  start  to  finish.  He  knew  all  the 
columns  and  generals  that  I'd  battled  with  in  the 
days  of  my  Zigler  gun.  We  kinder  fell  into  each 
other's  arms  an'  let  the  harsh  world  go  by  for  a 
while. 

*  Walen  he  introduces  me  to  your  Lord  Lundie. 
He  was  a  new  proposition  to  me.  If  he  hadn't 
been  a  lawyer  he'd  have  made  a  lovely  cattle-king. 
I  thought  I  had  played  poker  some.  Another  of 
my  breaks.  Ya-as  !  It  cost  me  eleven  hundred 
dollars  besides  what  Tommy  said  when  I  retired. 
I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  your  hereditary  aristo- 
cracy, or  your  judiciary,  or  your  press. 

'  Sunday  we  all  went  to  Church  across  the 
Park  here.  .  .  .  Psha  !  Think  o'  your  rememberin' 
my  religion  !  I've  become  an  Episcopalian  since 
I  married.  Ya-as.  .  .  .  After  lunch  Walen  did 
his  crowned-heads-of-Europe  stunt  in  the  smokin'- 


286     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

room  here.  He  was  long  on  Kings.  And  Con- 
tinental crises.  I  do  not  pretend  to  follow  British 
domestic  politics,  but  in  the  aeroplane  business  a 
man  has  to  know  something  of  international  possi- 
bilities. At  present,  you  British  are  settin'  in 
kimonoes  on  dynamite  kegs.  Walen's  talk  put 
me  wise  on  the  location  and  size  of  some  of  the 
kegs.     Ya-as  ! 

'  After  that,  we  four  went  out  to  look  at  those 
golf-links  I  was  hirin'.  We  each  took  a  club. 
Mine ' — he  glanced  at  a  great  tan  bag  by  the  fire- 
place— 'was  the  beginner's  friend  —  the  cleek. 
Well,  sir,  this  golf  proposition  took  a  holt  of  me 
as  quick  as — quick  as  death.  They  had  to  prise 
me  off  the  greens  when  it  got  too  dark  to  see,  and 
then  we  went  back  to  the  house.  I  was  walkin' 
ahead  with  my  Lord  Marshalton  talkin'  beginners' 
golf.  (/  was  the  man  who  ought  to  have  been 
killed  by  rights.)  We  cut  'cross  lots  through  the 
woods  to  Flora's  Temple — that  place  I  showed 
you  this  afternoon.  Lundie  and  Walen  were, 
maybe,  twenty  or  thirty  rod  behind  us  in  the 
dark.  Marshalton  and  I  stopped  at  the  theatre 
to  admire  at  the  ancestral  yew-trees.  He  took 
me  right  under  the  biggest — King  Somebody's 
Yew — and  while  I  was  spannin'  it  with  my  hand- 
kerchief, he  says,  "  Look  heah  !  "  just  as  if  it  was 
a  rabbit — and  down  comes  a  bi-plane  into  the 
theatre  with  no  more  noise  than  the  dead.  My 
Rush  Silencer  is  the  only  one  on  the  market  that 
allows  that  sort  of  gumshoe  work.  .  .  .  What  ? 
A  bi-plane — with  two  men  in  it.  Both  men  jump 
out   and    start    fussin'   with    the   engines.     I   was 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     287 

starting  to  tell  Mankeltow— I  can't  remember  to 
call  him  Marshalton  any  more — that  it  looked 
as  if  the  Royal  British  Flying  Corps  had  got  on 
to  my  Rush  Silencer  at  last ;  but  he  steps  out 
from  under  the  yew  to  these  two  Stealthy  Steves 
and  says,  "  What's  the  trouble  ?  Can  I  be  of  any 
service  ?  "  He  thought — so  did  I — 'twas  some 
of  the  boys  from  Aldershot  or  Salisbury.  Well, 
sir,  from  there  on,  the  situation  developed  like  a 
motion-picture  in  Hell.  The  man  on  the  nigh 
side  of  the  machine  whirls  round,  pulls  his  gun 
and  fires  into  Mankeltow's  face.  I  laid  him  out 
with  my  cleek  automatically.  Any  one  who 
shoots  a  friend  of  mine  gets  what's  comin'  to  him 
if  I'm  within  reach.  He  drops.  Mankeltow 
rubs  his  neck  with  his  handkerchief.  The  man 
the  far  side  of  the  machine  starts  to  run.  Lundie 
down  the  ride,  or  it  might  have  been  Walen, 
shouts,  "  What's  happened  ?  "  Mankeltow  says, 
l<  Collar  that  chap." 

'  The  second  man  runs  ring-a-ring-o'-roses 
round  the  machine,  one  hand  reachin'  behind  him. 
Mankeltow  heads  him  off  to  me.  He  breaks 
blind  for  Walen  and  Lundie,  who  are  runnin'  up 
the  ride.  There's  some  sort  of  mix-up  among 
'em,  which  it's  too  dark  to  see,  and  a  thud. 
Walen  says,  "  Oh,  well  collared  !  "  Lundie  says, 
"That's  the  only  thing  I  never  learned  at 
Harrow  !  "  .  .  .  Mankeltow  runs  up  to  'em,  still 
rubbin'  his  neck,  and  says,  "  He  didn't  fire  at  me. 
It  was  the  other  chap.     Where  is  he  ?  " 

'  "  I've  stretched  him  alongside  his  machine," 
I  says. 


288     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  "  Are  they  poachers  ?"  says  Lundie. 

'  "  No.  Airmen.  I  can't  make  it  out,"  says 
Mankeltow. 

'  "  Look  at  here,"  says  Walen,  kind  of  brusque. 
"  This  man  ain't  breathin'  at  all.  Didn't  you 
hear  somethin'  crack  when  he  lit,  Lundie  ? " 

'  "  My  God  !  "  says  Lundie.  "  Did  I  ?  I 
thought  it  was  my  suspenders"  —  no,  he  said 
'•'  braces." 

'  Right  there  I  left  them  and  sort  o'  tip-toed 
back  to  my  man,  hopin'  he'd  revived  and  quit. 
But  he  hadn't.  That  darned  cleek  had  hit  him 
on  the  back  of  the  neck  just  where  his  helmet 
stopped.  He'd  got  his.  I  knew  it  by  the  way 
the  head  rolled  in  my  hands.  Then  the  others 
came  up  the  ride  totin'  their  load.  No  mistakin' 
that  shuffle  on  grass.  D'you  remember  it — in 
South  Africa  ?     Ya-as. 

'  "  Hsh  !  "  says  Lundie.  "  Do  you  know  I've 
broken  this  man's  neck  ?  " 

'  "  Same  here,"  I  says. 

'  "  What  ?     Both  ? "  says  Mankeltow. 

1  "  Nonsense  !  "  says  Lord  Lundie.  "  Who'd 
have  thought  he  was  that  out  of  training  ?  A 
man  oughtn't  to  fly  if  he  ain't  fit." 

'  "  What  did  they  want  here,  anyway  ? "  said 
Walen  ;  and  Mankeltow  says,  "  We  can't  leave 
them  in  the  open.  Some  one  '11  come.  Carry  'em 
to  Flora's  Temple." 

*  We  toted  'em  again  and  laid  'em  out  on  a 
stone  bench.  They  was  still  dead  in  spite  of  our 
best  attentions.  We  knew  it,  but  we  went  through 
the  motions  till  it  was  quite  dark.     'Wonder  if  all 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     289 

murderers  do  that  ?  "  We  want  a  light  on 
this,"  says  Walen  after  a  spell.  "There  ought 
to  be  one  in  the  machine.  Why  didn't  they 
light  it?" 

'We  came  out  of  Flora's  Temple,  and  shut 
the  doors  behind  us.  Some  stars  were  showing 
then — same  as  when  Cain  did  his  little  act,  I 
guess.  I  climbed  up  and  searched  the  machine. 
She  was  very  well  equipped.  I  found  two  electric 
torches  in  clips  alongside  her  barometers  by  the 
rear  seat. 

'  "  What  make  is  she  ?  "  says  Mankeltow. 

' "  Continental  Renzalaer,"  I  says.  "  My 
engines  and  my  Rush  Silencer." 

'  Walen  whistles,  "  Here — let  me  look,"  he 
says,  and  grabs  the  other  torch.  She  was  sure 
well  equipped.  We  gathered  up  an  armful  of 
cameras  an'  maps  an'  note-books  an'  an  album  of 
mounted  photographs  which  we  took  to  Flora's 
Temple  and  spread  on  a  marble-topped  table  (I'll 
show  you  to-morrow)  which  the  King  of  Naples 
had  presented  to  grandfather  Marshalton.  Walen 
starts  to  go  through  'em.  We  wanted  to  know 
why  our  friends  had  been  so  prejudiced  against 
our  society. 

'  "  Wait  a  minute,"  says  Lord  Lundie.  "  Lend 
me  a  handkerchief." 

'  He  pulls  out  his  own,  and  Walen  contributes 
his  green-and-red  bandanna,  and  Lundie  covers 
their  faces.  "Now,"  he  says,  "we'll  go  into  the 
evidence." 

'  There  wasn't  any  flaw  in  that  evidence.  Walen 
read  out  their  last  observations,  and  Mankeltow 


29o     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

asked  questions,  and  Lord  Lundie  sort  o'  sum- 
marised, and  I  looked  at  the  photos  in  the  album. 
'J'ever  see  a  bird's-eye  telephoto  -  survey  of 
England  for  military  purposes  ?  It's  interestin' 
but  indecent — like  turnin'  a  man  upside  down. 
None  of  those  close-range  panoramas  of  forts  could 
have  been  taken  without  my  Rush  Silencer. 

' "  I  wish  we  was  as  thorough  as  they  are,"  says 
Mankeltow,  when  Walen  stopped  translatin'. 

'  "  We've  been  thorough  enough,"  says  Lord 
Lundie.  "  The  evidence  against  both  accused  is 
conclusive.  Any  other  country  would  give  'em 
seven  years  in  a  fortress.  We  should  probably 
give  'em  eighteen  months  as  first-class  mis- 
demeanants. But  their  case,"  he  says,  "  is  out 
of  our  hands.  We  must  review  our  own.  Mr. 
Zigler,"  he  said,  "  will  you  tell  us  what  steps  you 
took  to  bring  about  the  death  of  the  first  accused  ?" 
I  told  him.  He  wanted  to  know  specially  whether 
I'd  stretched  first  accused  before  or  after  he  had 
fired  at  Mankeltow.  Mankeltow  testified  he'd 
been  shot  at,  and  exhibited  his  neck  as  evidence. 
It  was  scorched. 

' "  Now,  Mr.  Walen,"  says  Lord  Lundie. 
"  Will  you  kindly  tell  us  what  steps  you  took 
with  regard  to  the  second  accused  ? " 

'  "  The  man  ran  directly  at  me,  me  lord,"  says 
Walen.  "  I  said,  '  Oh  no,  you  don't,'  and  hit 
him  in  the  face." 

'  Lord  Lundie  lifts  one  hand  and  uncovers 
second  accused's  face.  There  was  a  bruise  on  one 
cheek  and  the  chin  was  all  greened  with  grass. 
He  was  a  heavy-built  man. 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     291 

'"What  happened  after  that?"  says  Lord 
Lundie. 

* "  To  the  best  of  my  remembrance  he  turned 
from  me  towards  your  lordship." 

'  Then  Lundie  goes  ahead.  "  I  stooped,  and 
caught  the  man  round  the  ankles,"  he  says.  "  The 
sudden  check  threw  him  partially  over  my  left 
shoulder.  I  jerked  him  off  that  shoulder,  still 
holding  his  ankles,  and  he  fell  heavily  on,  it 
would  appear,  the  point  of  his  chin,  death  being 
instantaneous." 

4  "  Death  being  instantaneous,"  says  Walen. 

*  Lord  Lundie  takes  off  his  gown  and  wig — 
you  could  see  him  do  it — and  becomes  our  fellow- 
murderer.  "  That's  our  case,"  he  says.  "  I  know 
how  /  should  direct  the  jury,  but  it's  an  un- 
dignified business  for  a  Lord  of  Appeal  to  lift 
his  hand  to,  and  some  of  my  learned  brothers," 
he  says,  "  might  be  disposed  to  be  facetious." 

'  I  guess  I  can't  be  properly  sensitised.  Any 
one  who  steered  me  out  of  that  trouble  might 
have  had  the  laugh  on  me  for  generations.  But 
I'm  only  a  millionaire.  I  said  we'd  better  search 
second  accused  in  case  he'd  been  carryin'  concealed 
weapons. 

'  "  That  certainly  is  a  point,"  says  Lord  Lundie. 
"But  the  question  for  the  jury  would  be  whether 
I  exercised  more  force  than  was  necessary  to 
prevent  him  from  usin'  them."  /  didn't  say  any- 
thing. He  wasn't  talkin'  my  language.  Second 
accused  had  his  gun  on  him  sure  enough,  but  it 
had  jammed  in  his  hip-pocket.  He  was  too  fleshy 
to   reach    behind    for    business    purposes,    and   he 


292     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

didn't  look,  a  gun-man  anyway.  Both  of  'em 
carried  wads  of  private  letters.  By  the  time 
Walen  had  translated,  we  knew  how  many  children 
the  fat  one  had  at  home  and  when  the  thin  one 
reckoned  to  be  married.     Too  bad  !     Ya-as. 

1  Says  Walen  to  me  while  we  was  rebuttonin' 
their  jackets  (they  was  not  in  uniform)  :  "  Ever 
read  a  book  called  The  Wreckers,  Mr.  Zigler  ?  " 

'  "  Not  that  I  recall  at  the  present  moment," 
I  says. 

*  "  Well,  do,"  he  says.  "  You'd  appreciate  it. 
You'd  appreciate  it  now,  I  assure  you." 

'  "  I'll  remember,"  I  says.  "  But  I  don't  see 
how  this  song  and  dance  helps  us  any.  Here's 
our  corpses,  here's  their  machine,  and  daylight's 
bound  to  come." 

1 "  Heavens  !  That  reminds  me,"  says  Lundie. 
"What  time's  dinner?  " 

'  "  Half-past  eight,"  says  Mankeltow.  "  It's 
half-past  five  now.  We  knocked  off  golf  at 
twenty  to,  and  if  they  hadn't  been  such  silly 
asses,  firin'  pistols  like  civilians,  we'd  have  had 
them  to  dinner.  Why,  they  might  be  sitting  with 
us  in  the  smoking-room  this  very  minute,"  he  says. 
Then  he  said  that  no  man  had  a  right  to  take  his 
profession  so  seriously  as  these  two  mountebanks. 

'  "  How  interestin'  !  "  says  Lundie.  "  I've 
noticed  this  impatient  attitude  toward  their  victim 
in  a  good  many  murderers.  I  never  understood 
it  before.  Of  course,  it's  the  disposal  of  the  body 
that  annoys  'em.  Now,  I  wonder,"  he  says,  "  who 
our  case  will  come  up  before  ?  Let's  run  through 
it  again." 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     293 

1  Then  Walen  whirls  in.  He'd  been  bitin'  his 
nails  in  a  corner.  We  was  all  nerved  up  by  now. 
.  .  .  Me  ?  The  worst  of  the  bunch.  I  had  to 
think  for  Tommy  as  well. 

"'We  cant  be  tried,"  says  Walen.  "We 
mustn't  be  tried  !  It'll  make  an  infernal  inter- 
national stink.  What  did  I  tell  you  in  the 
smoking-room  after  lunch?  The  tension's  at 
breaking-point  already.  This  'ud  snap  it.  Can't 
you  see  that  ?  " 

*  "  I  was  thinking  of  the  legal  aspect  of  the 
case,"  says  Lundie.  "  With  a  good  jury  we'd 
likely  be  acquitted." 

'  "  Acquitted  !  "  says  Walen.  "  Who'd  dare 
acquit  us  in  the  face  of  what  'ud  be  demanded 
by — the  other  party  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the 
War  of  Jenkins'  ear  ?  'Ever  hear  of  Mason  and 
Slidell  ?  'Ever  hear  of  an  ultimatum  ?  You  know 
who  these  two  idiots  are  ;  you  know  who  we  are — 
a  Lord  of  Appeal,  a  Viscount  of  the  English 
peerage,  and  me — me  knowing  all  I  know,  which 
the  men  who  know  dam'  well  know  that  I  do 
know  !  It's  our  necks  or  Armageddon.  Which 
do  you  think  this  Government  would  choose  ? 
We  cant  be  tried  !  "  he  says. 

* "  Then  I  expect  I'll  have  to  resign  me  club," 
Lundie  goes  on.  "  I  don't  think  that's  ever  been 
done  before  by  an  ex-officio  member.  I  must  ask 
the  secretary."  I  guess  he  was  kinder  bunkered 
for  the  minute,  or  maybe  'twas  the  lordship 
comin'  out  on  him. 

'  "  Rot  !  "  says  Mankeltow.  "  Walen's  right. 
We  can't  afford  to  be  tried.     We'll  have  to  bury 


294     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

them  ;  but  my  head-gardener  locks  up  all  the  tools 
at  five  o'clock." 

'  "  Not  on  your  life  !  "  says  Lundie.  He  was 
on  deck  again — as  the  high-class  lawyer.  "  Right 
or  wrong,  if  we  attempt  concealment  of  the  bodies 
we're  done  for." 

'  "  I'm  glad  of  that,"  says  Mankeltow,  "  because, 
after  all,  it  ain't  cricket  to  bury  'em." 

*  Somehow — but  I  know  I  ain't  English — that 
consideration  didn't  worry  me  as  it  ought.  An' 
besides,  I  was  thinkin' — I  had  to — an'  I'd  begun 
to  see  a  light  'way  off — a  little  glimmerin'  light 
o'  salvation. 

*  "  Then  what  are  we  to  do  ?  "  says  Walen. 
"  Zigler,  what  do  you  advise  ?  Your  neck's  in  it 
too." 

' "  Gentlemen,"  I  says,  "  something  Lord 
Lundie  let  fall  a  while  back  gives  me  an  idea.  I 
move  that  this  committee  empowers  Big  Claus 
and  Little  Claus,  who  have  elected  to  commit 
suicide  in  our  midst,  to  leave  the  premises  as  they 
came.  I'm  asking  you  to  take  big  chances,"  I 
says,  "  but  they're  all  we've  got,"  and  then  I 
broke  for  the  bi-plane. 

'  Don't  tell  me  the  English  can't  think  as  quick 
as  the  next  man  when  it's  up  to  them  !  They 
lifted  'em  out  o'  Flora's  Temple — reverent,  but 
not  wastin'  time — whilst  I  found  out  what  had 
brought  her  down.  One  cylinder  was  misfirin'. 
I  didn't  stop  to  fix  it.  My  Renzalaer  will  hold 
up  on  six.  We've  proved  that.  If  her  crew  had 
relied  on  my  guarantees,  they'd  have  been  half- 
way home  by  then,  instead  of  takin'   their  seats 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     295 

with  hangin'  heads  like  they  was  ashamed.  They 
ought  to  have  been  ashamed  too,  playin'  gun-men 
in  a  British  peer's  park !  I  took  big  chances 
startin'  her  without  controls,  but  'twas  a  dead  still 
night  an'  a  clear  run — you  saw  it — across  the 
Theatre  into  the  park,  and  I  prayed  she'd  rise 
before  she  hit  high  timber.  I  set  her  all  I  dared 
for  a  quick  lift.  I  told  Mankeltow  that  if  I  gave 
her  too  much  nose  she'd  be  liable  to  up-end  and 
flop.  He  didn't  want  another  inquest  on  his 
estate.  No,  sir  !  So  I  had  to  fix  her  up  in  the 
dark.     Ya-as ! 

*  I  took  big  chances,  too,  while  those  other  three 
held  on  to  her  and  I  worked  her  up  to  full  power. 
My  Renzalaer's  no  ventilation-fan  to  pull  against. 
But  I  climbed  out  just  in  time.  I'd  hitched  the 
signallin'  lamp  to  her  tail  so's  we  could  track  her. 
Otherwise,  with  my  Rush  Silencer,  we  might's 
well  have  shooed  an  owl  out  of  a  barn.  She  left 
just  that  way  when  we  let  her  go.  No  sound 
except  the  propellers — Whoo-oo-ool  Whoo-oo-ool 
There  was  a  dip  in  the  ground  ahead.  It  hid  her 
lamp  for  a  second — but  there's  no  such  thing  as 
time  in  real  life.  Then  that  lamp  travelled  up 
the  far  slope  slow — too  slow.  Then  it  kinder 
lifted,  we  judged.  Then  it  sure  was  liftin'. 
Then  it  lifted  good.  D'you  know  why  ?  Our 
four  naked  perspirin'  souls  was  out  there  under- 
neath her,  hikin'  her  heavens  high.  Yes,  sir. 
We  did  it !  .  .  .  And  that  lamp  kept  liftin'  and 
liftin'.  Then  she  side-slipped  !  My  God,  she 
side-slipped  twice,  which  was  what  I'd  been  afraid 
of  all   along  !     Then    she   straightened    up,    and 


296     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

went  away  climbin'  to  glory,  for  that  blessed 
star  of  our  hope  got  smaller  and  smaller  till  we 
couldn't  track  it  any  more.  Then  we  breathed. 
We  hadn't  breathed  any  since  their  arrival,  but 
we  didn't  know  it  till  we  breathed  that  time 
— all  together.  Then  we  dug  our  finger-nails 
out  of  our  palms  an'  came  alive  again — in  instal- 
ments. 

'  Lundie  spoke  first.  "  We  therefore  commit 
their  bodies  to  the  air,"  he  says,  an'  puts  his  cap 
on. 

'  "  The  deep — the  deep,"  says  Walen.  "  It's 
just  twenty-three  miles  to  the  Channel." 

'  "  Poor  chaps  !  Poor  chaps  !  "  says  Mankeltow. 
"  We'd  have  had  'em  to  dinner  if  they  hadn't  lost 
their  heads.  I  can't  tell  you  how  this  distresses 
me,  Laughton." 

"'Well,  look  at  here,  Arthur,"  I  says.  "It's 
only  God's  Own  Mercy  you  an'  me  ain't  lyin' 
in  Flora's  Temple  now,  and  if  that  fat  man  had 
known  enough  to  fetch  his  gun  around  while  he 
was  runnin',  Lord  Lundie  and  Walen  would  have 
been  alongside  us." 

'  "  I  see  that,"  he  says.  "  But  we're  alive  and 
they're  dead,  don't  ye  know." 

'  "  I  know  it,"  I  says.  "  That's  where  the 
dead  are  always  so  damned  unfair  on  the  sur- 
vivors." 

'  "  I  see  that  too,"  he  says.  "  But  I'd  have 
given  a  good  deal  if  it  hadn't  happened,  poor 
chaps !  " 

'  "  Amen  !  "  says  Lundie.  Then  ?  Oh,  then 
we  sorter  walked  back  two  an'   two  to   Flora's 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING     297 

Temple  an'  lit  matches  to  see  we  hadn't  left  any- 
thing behind.  Walen,  he  had  confiscated  the 
note-books  before  they  left.  There  was  the  first 
man's  pistol,  which  we'd  forgot  to  return  him, 
lyin'  on  the  stone  bench.  Mankeltow  puts  his 
hand  on  it — he  never  touched  the  trigger — an', 
bein'  an  automatic,  of  course  the  blame  thing 
jarred  off — spiteful  as  a  rattler  ! 

*  "  Look  out  !  They'll  have  one  of  us  yet," 
says  Walen  in  the  dark.  But  they  didn't — the 
Lord  hadn't  quit  being  our  shepherd — and  we 
heard  the  bullet  zip  across  the  veldt — quite  like 
old  times.     Ya-as ! 

*  "  Swine  !  "  says  Mankeltow. 

*  After  that  I  didn't  hear  any  more  "  Poor 
chap "  talk.  .  .  .  Me  ?  I  never  worried  about 
killing  my  man.  I  was  too  busy  figurin'  how 
a  British  jury  might  regard  the  proposition.  I 
guess  Lundie  felt  that  way  too. 

1  Oh,  but  say  !  We  had  an  interestin'  time  at 
dinner.  Folks  was  expected  whose  auto  had 
hung  up  on  the  road.  They  hadn't  wired,  and 
Peters  had  laid  two  extra  places.  We  noticed  'em 
as  soon  as  we  sat  down.  I'd  hate  to  say  how 
noticeable  they  were.  Mankeltow  with  his  neck 
bandaged  (he'd  caught  a  relaxed  throat  golfin') 
sent  for  Peters  and  told  him  to  take  those 
empty  places  away — if  you  -please.  It  takes 
something  to  rattle  Peters.  He  was  rattled 
that  time.  Nobody  else  noticed  anything.  And 
now  .   .  .' 

1  Where  did  they  come  down  ?  '  I  asked,  as 
he  rose. 


298     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

1  In  the  Channel,  I  guess.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  papers  about  'em.  Shall  we  go  into  the 
drawin'-room,  and  see  what  these  boys  and  girls 
are  doin'  ?  But  say,  ain't  life  in  England 
intemtin'  ? ' 


REBIRTH 

If  any  God  should  say 

"  1  will  restore 
The  world  her  yesterday 
Whole  as  before 
My  Judgment  blasted  it  " — who  would  not  lift 
Heart,  eye,  and  hand  in  passion  o'er  the  gift  ? 

If  any  God  should  will 
To  wipe  from  mind 
The  memory  of  this  ill 
Which  is  mankind 
In  soul  and  substance  now — who  would  not  bless 
Even  to  tears  His  loving-tenderness  ? 

If  any  God  should  give 

Us  leave  to  fly 
These  present  deaths  we  live, 
And  safely  die 
In  those  lost  lives  we  lived  ere  we  were  born — 
What   man   but   would   not   laugh   the  excuse  to 
scorn  ? 

299 


300     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

For  we  are  what  we  are — 

So  broke  to  blood 
And  the  strict  works  of  war — 
So  long  subdued 
To  sacrifice,  that  threadbare  Death  commands 
Hardly  observance  at  our  busier  hands. 

Yet  we  were  what  we  were, 

And,  fashioned  so, 
It  pleases  us  to  stare 
At  the  far  show 
Of  unbelievable  years  and  shapes  that  flit, 
In  our  own  likeness,  on  the  edge  of  it. 


The  Horse  Marines 

(1911) 

The  Rt.  Hon.  R.  B.  Haldane,  Secretary  of  State 
for  War,1  was  questioned  in  the  House  of  Commons 
on  April  Zth  about  the  rocking-horses  which  the  War 
Office  is  using  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  recruits  to 
ride.  Lord  Ronaldshay  asked  the  War  Secretary  if 
rocking-horses  were  to  be  supplied  to  all  the  cavalry 
regiments  for  teaching  recruits  to  ride.  t  The  noble 
Lord'  replied  Mr.  Haldane ,  ' is  doubtless  alluding 
to  certain  dummy  horses  on  rockers  which  have  been 
tested  with  very  satisfactory  results.''  .  .  .  The 
mechanical  steed  is  a  wooden  horse  with  an  astonish- 
ing tail.  It  is  painted  brown  and  mounted  on  swing- 
ing rails.  The  recruit  leaps  into  the  saddle  and 
pulls  at  the  reins  while  the  riding-instructor  rocks  the 
animal  to  and  fro  with  his  foot.  The  rocking-horses 
are  being  made  at  Woolwich.      They  are  quite  cheap. 

Daily  Paper. 

My   instructions   to   Mr.    Leggatt,   my  engineer, 
had   been   accurately   obeyed.     He   was  to   bring 

1  Now  Viscount  Haldane  of  Cloan. 
301 


302     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

my  car  on  completion  of  annual  overhaul,  from 
Coventry  via  London,  to  Southampton  Docks  to 
await  my  arrival  ;  and  very  pretty  she  looked, 
under  the  steamer's  side  among  the  railway  lines, 
at  six  in  the  morning.  Next  to  her  new  paint  and 
varnish  I  was  most  impressed  by  her  four  brand- 
new  tyres. 

1  But  I  didn't  order  new  tyres,'  I  said  as  we 
moved  away.      '  These  are  lrresilients,  too.' 

1  Treble-ribbed,'  said  Leggatt.  '  Diamond-stud 
sheathing.' 

'  Then  there  has  been  a  mistake.' 

'  Oh  no,  sir  ;   they're  gratis.' 

The  number  of  motor  manufacturers  who  give 
away  complete  sets  of  treble-ribbed  Irresilient  tyres 
is  so  limited  that  I  believe  I  asked  Leggratt  for  an 
explanation. 

'  I  don't  know  that  I  could  very  well  explain, 
sir,'  was  the  answer.  '  It  'ud  come  better  from 
Mr.  Pyecroft.  He's  on  leaf  at  Portsmouth — 
staying  with  his  uncle.  His  uncle  'ad  the  body 
all  night.  I'd  defy  you  to  find  a  scratch  on  her 
even  with  a  microscope.' 

i  Then  we  will  go  home  by  the  Portsmouth 
road,'  I  said. 

And  we  went  at  those  speeds  which  are  allowed 
before  the  working-day  begins  or  the  police  are 
thawed  out.  We  were  blocked  near  Portsmouth 
by  a  battalion  of  Regulars  on  the  move. 

'  Whitsuntide  manoeuvres  just  ending,'  said 
Leggatt.  'They've  had  a  fortnight  in  the 
Downs.' 

He  said  no  more  until  we  were  in  a  narrow 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  303 

street  somewhere  behind  Portsmouth  Town  Rail- 
way Station,  where  he  slowed  at  a  green-grocery 
shop.  The  door  was  open,  and  a  small  old  man 
sat  on  three  potato-baskets  swinging  his  feet  over 
a  stooping  blue  back. 

'  You  call  that  shinin'  'em  ? '  he  piped.  '  Can 
you  see  your  face  in  'em  yet  ?  No !  Then 
shine  'em,  or  I'll  give  you  a  beltin'  you'll  re- 
member ! ' 

'  If  you  stop  kickin'  me  in  the  mouth  perhaps 
I'd  do  better,'  said  Pyecroft's  voice  meekly. 

We  blew  the  horn. 

Pyecroft  arose,  put  away  the  brushes,  and 
received  us  not  otherwise  than  as  a  king  in  his 
own  country. 

'  Are  you  going  to  leave  me  up  here  all  day  ? ' 
said  the  old  man. 

Pyecroft  lifted  him  down  and  he  hobbled  into 
the  back  room. 

'  It's  his  corns,'  Pyecroft  explained.  '  You 
can't  shine  corny  feet — and  he  hasn't  had  his 
breakfast.' 

'  1  haven't  had  mine  either,'  I  said. 

'  Breakfast  for  two  more,  uncle,'  Pyecroft  sang 
out. 

1  Go  out  an'  buy  it  then,'  was  the  answer,  '  or 
else  it's  half-rations.' 

Pyecroft  turned  to  Leggatt,  gave  him  his 
marketing  orders,  and  despatched  him  with  the 
coppers. 

*  I  have  got  four  new  tyres  on  my  car,'  I  began 
impressively. 

'  Yes,'  said  Mr.  Pyecroft.      '  You  have,  and  I 


304     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

will  say' — he  patted  my  car's  bonnet — 'you 
earned  'em.' 

'  I  want  to  know  why ,'  I  went  on. 

'  Quite  justifiable.  You  haven't  noticed  any- 
thing in  the  papers,  have  you  ? ' 

'  I've  only  just  landed.  I  haven't  seen  a  paper 
for  weeks.' 

'  Then  you  can  lend  me  a  virgin  ear.  There's 
been  a  scandal  in  the  Junior  Service — the  Army, 
I  believe  they  call  'em.' 

A  bag  of  coffee-beans  pitched  on  the  counter. 
'  Roast  that,'  said  the  uncle  from  within. 

Pyecroft  rigged  a  small  coffee-roaster,  while  I 
took  down  the  shutters,  and  sold  a  young  lady  in 
curl-papers  two  bunches  of  mixed  greens  and  one 
soft  orange. 

'  Sickly  stuff  to  handle  on  an  empty  stomach, 
ain't  it? '  said  Pyecroft. 

'  What  about  my  new  tyres  ? '  I  insisted. 

'  Oh,  any  amount.  But  the  question  is ' — he 
looked  at  me  steadily — '  is  this  what  you  might 
call  a  court-martial  or  a  post-mortem  inquiry  ?  ' 

*  Strictly  a  post-mortem,'  said  I. 

'  That  being  so,'  said  Pyecroft,  *  we  can  rapidly 
arrive  at  facts.  Last  Thursday — the  shutters  .go 
behind  those  baskets — last  Thursday  at  five  bells 
in  the  forenoon  watch,  otherwise  ten-thirty  a.m., 
your  Mr.  Leggatt  was  discovered  on  Westminster 
Bridge  laying  his  course  for  the  Old  Kent  Road.' 

'  But  that  doesn't  lead  to  Southampton,'  I 
interrupted. 

'  Then  perhaps  he  was  swinging  the  car  for 
compasses.     Be  that  as  it  may,  we  found  him  in 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  305 

that  latitude,  simultaneous  as  Jules  and  me  was 
ong  route  for  Waterloo  to  rejoin  our  respective 
ships — or  Navies  I  should  say.  Jules  was  a  per- 
missionaire,  which  meant  being  on  leaf,  same  as  me, 
from  a  French  cassowary-cruiser  at  Portsmouth. 
A  party  of  her  trusty  and  well-beloved  petty  officers 
'ad  been  seeing  London,  chaperoned  by  the  R.C 
chaplain.  Jules  'ad  detached  himself  from  the 
squadron  and  was  cruisin'  on  his  own  when  I  joined 
him,  in  company  of  copious  lady-friends.  But, 
mark  you,  your  Mr.  Leggatt  drew  the  line  at  the 
girls.     Loud  and  long  he  drew  it.' 

*  I'm  glad  of  that,'  I  said. 

'  You  may  be.  He  adopted  the  puristical 
formation  from  the  first.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  when 
we  was  annealing  him  at — but  you  wouldn't  know 
the  pub — "  I  am  going  to  Southampton,"  he  says, 
"and  I'll  stretch  a  point  to  go  via  Portsmouth  : 
but"  says  he,  "  seeing  what  sort  of  one  hell  of  a 
time  invariably  trarnspires  when  we  cruise  together, 
Mr.  Pyecroft,  I  do  not  feel  myself  justified  towards 
my  generous  and  long-suffering  employer  in  takin' 
on  that  kind  of  ballast  as  well."  1  assure  you  he 
considered  your  interests.' 

*  And  the  girls  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Oh,  I  left  that  to  Jules.  I'm  a  monogomite 
by  nature.  So  we  embarked  strictly  ong  garfong. 
But  I  should  tell  you,  in  case  he  didn't,  that  your 
Mr.  Leggatt's  care  for  your  interests  'ad.extended 
to  sheathing  the  car  in  matting  and  gunny-bags  to 
preserve  her  paint-work.  She  was  all  swathed  up 
like  an  I-talian  baby.' 

'  He  is  careful  about  his  paint-work,'  I  said. 

x 


306     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  For  a  man  with  no  Service  experience  I  should 
say  he  was  fair  homicidal  on  the  subject.  If  we'd 
been  Marines  he  couldn't  have  been  more  pointed 
in  his  allusions  to  our  hob-nailed  socks.  However, 
we  reduced  him  to  a  malleable  condition,  and 
embarked  for  Portsmouth.  I'd  seldom  rejoined  my 
vaisseau  ong  automobile,  avec  a  fur  coat  and  goggles. 
Nor  'ad  Jules.' 

*  Did  Jules  say  much  ? '  I  asked,  helplessly 
turning  the  handle  of  the  coffee-roaster. 

*  That's  where  I  pitied  the  pore  beggar.  He 
'adn't  the  language,  so  to  speak.  He  was  confined 
to  heavings  and  shruggin's  and  copious  Mong  Jews  ! 
The  French  are  very  badly  fitted  with  relief-valves. 
And  then  our  Mr.  Leggatt  drove.     He  drove.' 

*  Was  he  in  a  very  malleable  condition  ?  ' 

'  Not  him  !  We  recognised  the  value  of  his 
cargo  from  the  outset.  He  hadn't  a  chance  to  get 
more  than  moist  at  the  edges.  After  which  we 
went  to  sleep  ;  and  now  we'll  go  to  breakfast.' 

We  entered  the  back  room  where  everything 
was  in  order,  and  a  screeching  canary  made  us 
welcome.  The  uncle  had  added  sausages  and  piles 
of  buttered  toast  to  the  kippers.  The  coffee, 
cleared  with  a  piece  of  fish-skin,  was  a  revelation. 

Leggatt,  who  seemed  to  know  the  premises,' had 
run  the  car  into  the  tiny  backyard  where  her 
mirror-like  back  almost  blocked  up  the  windows. 
He  minded  shop  while  we  ate.  Pyecroft  passed  him 
his  rations  through  a  flap  in  the  door.  The  uncle 
ordered  him  in,  after  breakfast,  to  wash  up,  and  he 
jumped  in  his  gaiters  at  the  old  man's  commands 
as  he  has  never  jumped  to  mine. 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  307 

1  To  resoom  the  post-mortem,'  said  Pyecroft, 
lighting  his  pipe.  '  My  slumbers  were  broken 
by  the  propeller  ceasing  to  revolve,  and  by  vile 
language  from  your  Mr.  Leggatt.' 

'I — I '    Leggatt    began,    a    blue-checked 

duster  in  one  hand  and  a  cup  in  the  other. 

*  When  you're  wanted  aft  you'll  be  sent  for, 
Mr.  Leggatt,'  said  Pyecroft  amiably.  '  It's  clean 
mess  decks  for  you  now.  Resooming  once  more, 
we  was  on  a  lonely  and  desolate  ocean  near  Ports- 
down,  surrounded  by  gorse  bushes,  and  a  Boy 
Scout  was  stirring  my  stomach  with  his  little 
copper-stick.' 

1  "  You  count  ten,"  he  says. 

'"Very  good,  Boy  Jones,"  I  says,  "count 
'em,"  and  I  hauled  him  in  over  the  gunnel,  and 
ten  I  gave  him  with  my  large  flat  hand.  The 
remarks  he  passed,  lying  face  down  tryin'  to  bite 
my  leg,  would  have  reflected  credit  on  any  Service. 
Having  finished  1  dropped  him  overboard  again, 
which  was  my  gross  political  error.  I  ought  to 
'ave  killed  him  ;  because  he  began  signalling — rapid 
and  accurate — in  a  sou'  westerly  direction.  Few 
equatorial  calms  are  to  be  apprehended  when  B.P.'s 
little  pets  take  to  signallin'.  Make  a  note  o'  that  ! 
Three  minutes  later  we  were  stopped  and  boarded 
by  Scouts — up  our  backs,  down  our  necks,  and  in 
our  boots !  The  last  I  heard  from  your  Mr. 
Leggatt  as  he  went  under,  brushin'  'em  off  his 
cap,  was  thanking  Heaven  he'd  covered  up  the 
new  paint-work  with  mats.      An  'eroic  soul  !  ' 

'  Not  a  scratch  on  her  body,'  said  Leggatt, 
pouring  out  the  coffee-grounds. 


308     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  And  Jules  ? '  said  I. 

'  Oh,  Jules  thought  the  much  advertised  Social 
Revolution  had  begun,  but  his  mackintosh  ham- 
pered him.' 

'  You  told  me  to  bring  the  mackintosh,'  Leggatt 
whispered  to  me. 

'  And  when  I  'ad  'em  half  convinced  he  was  a 
French  vicomte  coming  down  to  visit  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief at  Portsmouth,  he  tried  to  take 
it  off.  Seeing  his  uniform  underneath,  some 
sucking  Sherlock  Holmes  of  the  Pink  Eye  Patrol 
(they  called  him  Eddy)  deduced  that  I  wasn't 
speaking  the  truth.  Eddy  said  I  was  tryin'  to 
sneak  into  Portsmouth  unobserved — unobserved 
mark  you  ! — and  join  hands  with  the  enemy.  It 
trarnspired  that  the  Scouts  was  conducting  a  field- 
day  against  opposin'  forces,  ably  assisted  by  all 
branches  of  the  Service,  and  they  was  so  afraid 
the  car  wouldn't  count  ten  points  to  them  in  the 
fray,  that  they'd  have  scalped  us,  but  for  the  inter- 
vention of  an  umpire — also  in  short  under-drawers. 
A  fleshy  sight !  ' 

Here  Mr.  Pyecroft  shut  his  eyes  and  nodded. 
'  That  umpire,'  he  said  suddenly,  '  was  our  Mr. 
Morshed — a  gentleman  whose  acquaintance  -  you 
have  already  made  and  profited  by,  if  I  mistake 
not.'1 

'  Oh,  was  the  Navy  in  it  too  ? '  I  said  ;  for  I 
had  read  of  wild  doings  occasionally  among  the 
Boy  Scouts  on  the  Portsmouth  Road,  in  which 
Navy,  Army,  and  the  world  at  large  seemed  to 
have  taken  part. 

1  '  Their  Lawful  Occasions,'  Traffics  and  Discoveries. 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  309 

'  The  Navy  was  in  it.  I  was  the  only  one 
out  of  it — for  several  seconds.  Our  Mr.  Morshed 
failed  to  recognise  me  in  my  fur  boa,  and  my 
appealin'  winks  at  'im  behind  your  goggles  didn't 
arrive.  But  when  Eddy  darling  had  told  his 
story,  I  saluted,  which  is  difficult  in  furs,  and  I 
stated  I  was  bringin'  him  dispatches  from  the 
North.  My  Mr.  Morshed  cohered  on  the  instant. 
I've  never  known  his  ethergram  installations  out 
of  order  yet.  "  Go  and  guard  your  blessed  road," 
he  says  to  the  Fratton  Orphan  Asylum  standing 
at  attention  all  round  him,  and,  when  they  was 
removed  — "  Pyecroft,"  he  says,  still  sotte  voce, 
"  what  in  Hong-Kong  are  you  doing  with  this 
dun-coloured  sampan  ? " 

'  It  was  your  Mr.  Leggatt's  paint-protective 
matting  which  caught  his  eye.  She  did  resemble 
a  samp an^  especially  about  the  stern-works.  At 
these  remarks  I  naturally  threw  myself  on  'is 
bosom,  so  far  as  Service  conditions  permitted,  and 
revealed  him  all,  mentioning  that  the  car  was 
yours.  You  know  his  way  of  working  his  lips 
like  a  rabbit  ?  Yes,  he  was  quite  pleased.  "  His 
car  !  "  he  kept  murmuring,  working  his  lips  like 
a  rabbit.  "  I  owe  'im  more  than  a  trifle  for 
things  he  wrote  about  me.      I'll  keep  the  car." 

*  Your  Mr.  Leggatt  now  injected  some  semi- 
mutinous  remarks  to  the  effect  that  he  was  your 
chauffeur  in  charge  of  your  car,  and,  as  such, 
capable  of  so  acting.  Mr.  Morshed  threw  him 
a  glarnce.  It  sufficed.  Didn't  it  suffice,  Mr. 
Leggatt  ? ' 

'  I  knew  if  something  didn't  happen,  something 


310     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

worse  would,'  said  Leggatt.      '  It  never  fails  when 
you're  aboard.' 

*  And  Jules  ? '  I  demanded. 

'Jules  was,  so  to  speak,  panicking  in  a  water- 
tight flat  through  his  unfortunate  lack  of  language. 
I  had  to  introduce  him  as  part  of  the  entente 
cordiale,  and  he  was  put  under  arrest,  too.  Then 
we  sat  on  the  grass  and  smoked,  while  Eddy  and 
Co.  violently  annoyed  the  traffic  on  the  Ports- 
mouth Road,  till  the  umpires,  all  in  short  panties, 
conferred  on  the  valuable  lessons  of  the  field-day 
and  added  up  points,  same  as  at  target-practice. 
I  didn't  hear  their  conclusions,  but  our  Mr. 
Morshed  delivered  a  farewell  address  to  Eddy 
and  Co.,  tellin'  'em  they  ought  to  have  deduced 
from  a  hundred  signs  about  me,  that  I  was  a 
friendly  bringin'  in  dispatches  from  the  North. 
We  left  'em  tryin'  to  find  those  signs  in  the  Scout 
book,  and  we  reached  Mr.  Morshed's  hotel  at 
Portsmouth  at  6.27  p.m.  ong  automobile.  Here 
endeth  the  first  chapter.' 

'  Begin  the  second,'  I  said. 

The  uncle  and  Leggatt  had  finished  washing 
up  and  were  seated,  smoking,  while  the  damp 
duster  dried  at  the  fire. 

'  About  what  time  was  it,'  said  Pyecroft  to 
Leggatt,  '  when  our  Mr.  Morshed  began  to  talk 
about  uncles? ' 

*  When  he  came  back  to  the  bar,  after  he'd 
changed  into  those  rat  -  catcher  clothes,'  said 
Leggatt. 

*  That's  right.  "  Pye,"  said  he,  "  have  you 
an  uncle  ?  "     "  I  have,"  I  says.     "  Here's  santy  to 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  311 

him,"  and  I  finished  my  sherry  and  bitters  to  you, 
uncle.' 

'  That's  right,'  said  Pyecroft's  uncle  sternly. 
1  If  you  hadn't  I'd  have  belted  you  worth 
rememberin',  Emmanuel.  I  had  the  body  all 
night.' 

Pyecroft  smiled  affectionately.  '  So  you  'ad, 
uncle,'  an'  beautifully  you  looked  after  her.  But 
as  I  was  saying,  "  I  have  an  uncle,  too,"  says  Mr. 
Morshed,  dark  and  lowering.  "  Yet  somehow  I 
can't  love  him.  I  want  to  mortify  the  beggar. 
Volunteers  to  mortify  my  uncle,  one  pace  to  the 
front." 

'  I  took  Jules  with  me  the  regulation  distance. 
Jules  was  getting  interested.  Your  Mr.  Leggatt 
preserved  a  strictly  nootral  attitude. 

* "  You're  a  pressed  man,"  says  our  Mr. 
Morshed.  "  I  owe  your  late  employer  much,  so  to 
say.    The  car  will  manoeuvre  all  night,  as  requisite." 

c  Mr.  Leggatt  come  out  noble  as  your  employee, 
and,  by  'Eaven's  divine  grace,  instead  of  arguing, 
he  pleaded  his  new  paint  and  varnish  which  was 
Mr.  Morshed's  one  vital  spot  (he's  lootenant  on 
one  of  the  new  catch-'em-alive-o's  now).  "  True," 
says  he,  "  paint's  an  'oly  thing.  I'll  give  you  one 
hour  to  arrange  a  modus  Vivendi.  Full  bunkers 
and  steam  ready  by  9  p.m.  to-night,  if  you  please." 

'  Even  so,  Mr.  Leggatt  was  far  from  content. 
/  'ad  to  arrange  the  details.  We  run  her  into  the 
yard  here.'  Pyecroft  nodded  through  the  window 
at  my  car's  glossy  back-panels.  s  We  took  off 
the  body  with  its  mats  and  put  it  in  the  stable, 
substitooting    (and    that    yard's    a   tight     fit    for 


3i2     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

extensive  repairs)  the  body  of  uncle's  blue  delivery 
cart.  It  overhung  a  trifle,  but  after  I'd  lashed  it 
I  knew  it  wouldn't  fetch  loose.  Thus,  in  our 
composite  cruiser,  we  repaired  once  more  to  the 
hotel,  and  was  immediately  dispatched  to  the  toy- 
shop in  the  High  Street  where  we  took  aboard 
one  rocking-horse  which  was  waiting  for  us.' 

'  Took  aboard  what  ? '  I  cried. 

'  One  fourteen-hand  dapple-grey  rocking-horse, 
with  pure  green  rockers  and  detachable  tail,  pair 
gashly  glass  eyes,  complete  set  'orrible  grinnin' 
teeth,  and  two  bloody -red  nostrils  which,  pro- 
truding from  the  brown  papers,  produced  the  tout 
ensemble  of  a  Ju-ju  sacrifice  in  the  Benin  campaign. 
Do  I  make  myself  comprehensible  ? ' 

'  Perfectly.     Did  you  say  anything? '  I  asked. 

'  Only  to  Jules.  To  him,  I  says,  wishing  to 
try  him,  "  Allez  a  votre  bateau.  Je  say  mon 
Lootenong.  Eel  voo  donneray  porkwor."  To  me, 
says  he,  "  Vous  ong  ate  hurroo  !  Jamay  de  la  vee  !  " 
and  I  saw  by  his  eye  he'd  taken  on  for  the  full 
term  of  the  war.  Jules  was  a  blue-eyed,  brindle- 
haired  beggar  of  a  useful  make  and  inquirin' 
habits.      Your  Mr.  Leggat  he  only  groaned.' 

Leggatt  nodded.  'It  was  like  nightmares,'  he 
said.      '  It  was  like  nightmares.' 

'  Once  more,  then,'  Pyecroft  swept  on,  '  we 
returned  to  the  hotel  and  partook  of  a  sumptuous 
repast,  under  the  able  and  genial  chairmanship  of 
our  Mr.  Morshed,  who  kid  his  projecks  un- 
reservedly before  us.  "  In  the  first  place,"  he  says, 
opening  out  bicycle -maps,  "my  uncle,  who,  I 
regret  to  say,  is  a  brigadier-general,  has  sold  his 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  313 

alleged  soul  to  Dicky  Bridoon  for  a  feathery  hat 
and  a  pair  o'  gilt  spurs.  Jules,  conspuez  Vonclel  " 
So  Jules,  you'll  be  glad  to  hear ' 

'  One  minute,  Pye,'  I  said.  '  Who  is  Dicky 
Bridoon  ? ' 

' 1  don't  usually  mingle  myself  up  with  the 
bickerings  of  the  Junior  Service,  but  it  trarnspired 
that  he  was  Secretary  o'  State  for  Civil  War,  an' 
he'd  been  issuing  mechanical  leather-belly  gee- 
gees  which  doctors  recommend  for  tumour — to 
the  British  cavalry  in  loo  of  real  meat  horses,  to 
learn  to  ride  on.  Don't  you  remember  there  was 
quite  a  stir  in  the  papers  owing  to  the  cavalry 
not  appreciatin'  'em  ?  But  that's  a  minor  item. 
The  main  point  was  that  our  uncle,  in  his  capacity 
of  brigadier-general,  mark  you,  had  wrote  to  the 
papers  highly  approvin'  o'  Dicky  Bridoon's 
mechanical  substitutes  an  'ad  thus  obtained  pro- 
motion— all  same  as  a  agnosticle  stoker  psalm- 
singin'  'imself  up  the  Service  under  a  pious  captain. 
At  that  point  of  the  narrative  we  caught  a 
phosphorescent  glimmer  why  the  rocking-horse 
might  have  been  issued  ;  but  none  the  less  the 
navigation  was  intricate.  Omitting  the  fact  it 
was  dark  and  cloudy,  our  brigadier-uncle  lay 
somewhere  in  the  South  Downs  with  his  brigade, 
which  was  manceuvrin'  at  Whitsun  manoeuvres  on 
a  large  scale — Red  Army  versus  Blue,  et  cetera  ; 
an'  all  we  'ad  to  go  by  was  those  flapping  bicycle- 
maps  and  your  Mr.  Leggatt's  groans.' 

{I  was  thinking  what  the  Downs  mean  after 
dark,'  said  Leggatt  angrily. 

'They   was  worth  thinkin'  of,'  said  Pyecroft. 


314     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  When  we  had  studied  the  map  till  it  fair  spun, 
we  decided  to  sally  forth  and  creep  for  uncle  by 
hand  in  the  dark,  dark  night,  an'  present  'im  with 
the  rocking-horse.     So  we  embarked  at  8.57  p.m.' 

*  One  minute  again,  please.  How  much  did 
Jules  understand  by  that  time  ? '  I  asked. 

Sufficient  unto  the  day — or  night,  perhaps 
I  should  say.  He  told  our  Mr.  Morshed  he'd 
follow  him  more  sang  frays,  which  is  French  for 
dead,  drunk  or  damned.  Barrin'  'is  paucity  o' 
language,  there  wasn't  a  blemish  on  Jules.  But 
what  I  wished  to  imply  was,  when  we  climbed  into 
the  back  parts  of  the  car,  our  Lootenant  Morshed 
says  to  me,  "  I  doubt  if  I'd  flick  my  cigar-ends 
about  too  lavish,  Mr.  Pyecroft.  We  ought  to  be 
sitting  on  five  pounds'  worth  of  selected  fireworks, 
and  I  think  the  rockets  are  your  end."  Not  being 
able  to  smoke  with  my  'ead  over  the  side  I  threw 
it  away  ;  and  then  your  Mr.  Leggatt,  'aving  been 
as  nearly  mutinous  as  it  pays  to  be  with  my  Mr. 
Morshed,  arched  his  back  and  drove.' 

*  Where  did  he  drive  to,  please  ?  '  said  I. 

*  Primerrily,  in  search  of  any  or  either  or  both 
armies  ;  seconderrily,  of  course,  in  search  of  our 
brigadier-uncle.  Not  finding  him  on  the  road,  we 
ran  about  the  grass  looking  for  him.  This  took 
us  to  a  great  many  places  in  a  short  time.  'Ow 
'eavenly  that  lilac  did  smell  on  top  of  that  first 
Down — stinkin'  its  blossomin'  little  heart  out  ! ' 

*  I  'adn't  leesure  to  notice,'  said  Mr.  Leggatt. 
'  The  Downs  were  full  o'  chalk-pits,  and  we'd  no 
lights.' 

'We  'ad  the  bicycle-lamp  to  look  at  the  map 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  315 

by.  Didn't  you  notice  the  old  lady  at  the  window- 
where  we  saw  the  man  in  the  night-gown  ?  I 
thought  night-gowns  as  sleepin'  rig  was  extinck,  so 
to  speak.' 

1 1  tell  you  I  'adn't  leesure  to  notice,'  Leggatt 
repeated. 

1  That's  odd.  Then  what  might  'ave  made 
you  tell  the  sentry  at  the  first  camp  we  found  that 
you  was  the  Daily  Express  delivery-waggon  ?  ' 

*  You  can't  touch  pitch  without  being  defiled,' 
Leggatt  answered.  '  'Oo  told  the  officer  in  the 
bath  we  were  umpires  ? ' 

'  Well,  he  asked  us.  That  was  when  we  found 
the  Territorial  battalion  undressin'  in  slow  time. 
It  lay  on  the  left  flank  o'  the  Blue  Army,  and  it 
cackled  as  it  lay,  too.  But  it  gave  us  our  position 
as  regards  the  respective  armies.  We  wandered  a 
little  more,  and  at  1 1.7  p.m.,  not  having  had  a  road 
under  us  for  twenty  minutes,  we  scaled  the  heights 
of  something  or  other — which  are  about  six  hundred 
feet  high.  Here  we  'alted  to  tighten  the  lashings 
of  the  superstructure,  and  we  smelt  leather  and 
horses  three  counties  deep  all  round.  We  was, 
as  you  might  say,  in  the  thick  of  it.' 

'  "  Ah  !  "  says  my  Mr.  Morshed.  "  My  'orizon 
has  indeed  broadened.  What  a  little  thing  is  an 
uncle,  Mr.  Pyecroft,  in  the  presence  o'  these 
glitterin'  constellations  !  Simply  ludicrous  !  "  he 
says,  "  to  waste  a  rocking-horse  on  an  individual. 
We  must  socialise  it.  But  we  must  get  their  'eads 
up  first.     Touch  off"  one  rocket,  if  you  please." 

'  I  touched  off"  a  green  three-pounder  which 
rose    several    thousand    metres,   and    burst    into 


3i6     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

gorgeous  stars.  'c  Reproduce  the  manceuvre," 
he  says,  "  at  the  other  end  o'  this  ridge — if  it 
don't  end  in  another  cliff."  So  we  steamed  down 
the  ridge  a  mile  and  a  half  east,  and  then  I  let  Jules 
touch  off  a  pink  rocket,  or  he'd  ha'  kissed  me. 
That  was  his  only  way  to  express  his  emotions, 
so  to  speak.  Their  heads  come  up  then  all  around 
us  to  the  extent  o'  thousands.  We  hears  bugles 
like  cocks  crowing  below,  and  on  the  top 
of  it  a  most  impressive  sound  which  I'd  never 
enjoyed  before  because  'itherto  I'd  always  been  an 
inteegral  part  of  it,  so  to  say — the  noise  of  'ole 
armies  gettin'  under  arms.  They  must  'ave 
anticipated  a  night  attack,  I  imagine.  Most 
impressive.  Then  we  'eard  a  threshin'-machine. 
"Tutt  !  Tutt  !  This  is  childish  !  "  says 
Lootenant  Morshed.  "  We  can't  wait  till  they've 
finished  cutting  chaff  for  their  horses.  We  must 
make  'em  understand  we're  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
Expedite  'em  with  another  rocket,  Mr.  Pyecroft." 

'  "  It's  barely  possible,  sir,"  I  remarks,  "  that 
that's  a  searchlight  churnin'  up,"  and  by  the 
time  we  backed  into  a  providential  chalk  cutting 
(which  was  where  our  first  tyre  went  pungo) 
she  broke  out  to  the  northward,  and  began 
searching  the  ridge.     A  smart  bit  o'  work.' 

1  'Twasn't  a  puncture.  The  inner  tube  had 
nipped  because  we  skidded  so,'  Leggatt  inter- 
rupted. 

'  While  your  Mr.  Leggatt  was  effectin'  repairs, 
another  searchlight  broke  out  to  the  southward, 
and  the  two  of  'em  swept  our  ridge  on  both 
sides.     Right  at  the  west  end  of  it  they  showed 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  317 

us  the  ground  rising  into  a  hill,  so  to  speak, 
crowned  with  what  looked  like  a  little  fort. 
Morshed  saw  it  before  the  beams  shut  off. 
"  That's  the  key  of  the  position ! "  he  says. 
"  Occupy  it  at  all  hazards." 

1  "  I  haven't  half  got  occupation  for  the  next 
twenty  minutes,"  says  your  Mr.  Leggatt,  rootin' 
and  blasphemin'  in  the  dark.  Mark,  now,  'ow 
Morshed  changed  his  tactics  to  suit  'is  environ- 
ment. "  Right !  "  says  he.  "  I'll  stand  by  the 
ship.  Mr.  Pyecroft  and  Jules,  oblige  me  by 
doubling  along  the  ridge  to  the  east  with  all  the 
maroons  and  crackers  you  can  carry  without  spill- 
ing. Read  the  directions  careful  for  the  maroons, 
Mr.  Pyecroft,  and  touch  them  off  at  half-minute 
intervals.  Jules  represents  musketry  an'  maxim 
fire  under  your  command.  Remember,  it's  death 
or  Salisbury  Gaol !      Prob'ly  both  !  " 

'  By  these  means  and  some  moderately  'ard 
runnin',  we  distracted  'em  to  the  eastward. 
Maroons,  you  may  not  be  aware,  are  same  as 
bombs,  with  the  anarchism  left  out.  In  confined 
spots  like  chalk-pits,  they  knock  a  four-point- 
seven  silly.  But  you  should  read  the  directions 
before'and.  In  the  intervals  of  the  slow  but  well- 
directed  fire  of  my  cow-guns,  Jules,  who  had 
found  a  sheep-pond  in  the  dark  a  little  lower 
down,  gave  what  you  might  call  a  cinematograph 
reproduction  o'  sporadic  musketry.  They  was 
large  size  crackers,  and  he  concluded  with  the 
dull,  sickenin'  thud  o'  blind  shells  burstin'  on 
soft  ground.' 

'  How  did  he  manage  that  ? '  I  said. 


318     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  You  throw  a  lighted  squib  into  water  and 
you'll  see,'  said  Pyecroft.  '  Thus,  then,  we 
improvised  till  supplies  was  exhausted  and  the 
surrounding  landscapes  fair  'owled  and  'ummed 
at  us.  The  Junior  Service  might  'ave  'ad  their 
doubts  about  the  rockets,  but  they  couldn't  over- 
look our  gunfire.  Both  sides  tumbled  out  full 
of  initiative.  I  told  Jules  no  two  flat-feet  'ad 
any  right  to  be  as  happy  as  us,  and  we  went  back 
along  the  ridge  to  the  derelict,  and  there  was  our 
Mr.  Morshed  apostrophin'  his  'andiwork  over  fifty 
square  mile  o'  country  with  "Attend,  all  ye  who 
list  to  hear  !  "  out  of  the  Fifth  Reader.  He'd  got 
as  far  as  "  And  roused  the  shepherds  o'  Stone- 
henge,  the  rangers  o'  Beaulieu "  when  we  come 
up,  and  he  drew  our  attention  to  its  truth  as  well 
as  its  beauty.  That's  rare,  in  poetry,  I'm  told. 
He  went  right  on  to — "  The  red  glare  on  Skiddaw 
roused  those  beggars  at  Carlisle"  —  which  he 
pointed  out  was  poetic  licence  for  Leith  Hill. 
This  allowed  your  Mr.  Leggatt  time  to  finish 
pumpin'  up  his  tyres.  I  'eard  the  sweat  'op  off 
his  nose.' 

'  You  know  what  it  is,  sir,'  said  poor  Leggatt 
to  me. 

'  It  warfted  across  my  mind,  as  I  listened  to 
what  was  trarnspirin',  that  it  might  be  easier  to 
make  the  mess  than  to  wipe  it  up,  but  such 
considerations  weighed  not  with  our  valiant 
leader.' 

' "  Mr.  Pyecroft,"  he  says,  "  it  can't  have 
escaped  your  notice  that  we  'ave  one  angry  and 
'ighly  intelligent  army  in  front  of  us,  an'  another 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  319 

'ighly  angry  and  equally  intelligent  army  in  our 
rear.     What  'ud  you  recommend  ?  " 

'  Most  men  would  have  besought  'im  to  do  a 
lateral  glide  while  there  was  yet  time,  but  all  I 
said  was  :  "  The  rocking-horse  isn't  expended 
yet,  sir." 

*  He  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "  Pye," 
says  he,  "  there's  worse  men  than  you  in  loftier 
places.  They  shall  'ave  it.  None  the  Jess,"  he 
remarks,  "  the  ice  is  undeniably  packing." 

1 1  may  'ave  omitted  to  point  out  that  at  this 
juncture  two  large  armies,  both  deprived  of  their 
night's  sleep,  was  awake,  as  you  might  say,  and 
hurryin'  into  each  other's  arms.  Here  endeth  the 
second  chapter.' 

He  filled  his  pipe  slowly.  The  uncle  had 
fallen  asleep.     Leggatt  lit  another  cigarette. 

*  We  then  proceeded  ong  automobile  along  the 
ridge  in  a  westerly  direction  towards  the  miniature 
fort  which  had  been  so  kindly  revealed  by  the 
searchlight,  but  which  on  inspection  (your  Mr. 
Leggatt  bumped  into  an  outlyin'  reef  of  it)  proved 
to  be  a  wurzel-clump  ;  c  est-h-dire,  a  parallelo- 
grammatic  pile  of  about  three  million  mangold- 
wurzels,  brought  up  there  for  the  sheep,  I  suppose. 
On  all  sides,  excep'  the  one  we'd  come  by,  the 
ground  fell  away  moderately  quick,  and  down  at 
the  bottom  there  was  a  large  camp  lit  up  an'  full 
of  harsh  words  of  command. 

i "  I  said  it  was  the  key  to  the  position," 
Lootenant  Morshed  remarks.  "  Trot  out  Per- 
simmon !  "  which  we  rightly  took  to  read, 
"  Un-wrap  the  rocking-horse." 


320     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  "  Houp  la  !  "  says  Jules  in  a  insubordinate 
tone,  an'  slaps  Persimmon  on  the  flank. 

'  "  Silence  !  "  says  the  Lootenant.  "  This  is  the 
Royal  Navy,  not  Newmarket "  ;  and  we  carried 
Persimmon  to  the  top  of  the  mangel-wurzel 
clump  as  directed. 

*  Owing  to  the  inequalities  of  the  terrain  (I  do 
think  your  Mr.  Leggatt  might  have  had  a  spirit- 
level  in  his  kit)  he  wouldn't  rock  free  on  the  bed- 
plate, and  while  adjustin'  hirn,  his  detachable  tail 
fetched  adrift.  Our  Lootenant  was  quick  to  seize 
the  advantage. 

' "  Remove  that  transformation,"  he  says. 
li  Substitute  one  Roman  candle.  Gas-power  is 
superior  to  manual  propulsion." 

*  So  we  substituted.  He  arranged  the  piece 
de  resistarnce  in  the  shape  of  large  drums — 
not  saucers,  mark  you — drums  of  coloured  fire, 
with  printed  instructions,  at  proper  distances 
round  Persimmon.  There  was  a  brief  inter- 
regnum while  we  dug  ourselves  in  among  the 
wurzels  by  hand.  Then  he  touched  off  the 
fires,  not  omitting  the  Roman  candle,  and,  you 
may  take  it  from  me,  all  was  visible.  Per- 
simmon shone  out  in  his  naked  splendour, 
red  to  port,  green  to  starboard,  and  one  white 
light  at  his  bows,  as  per  Board  o'  Trade 
regulations.  Only  he  didn't  so  much  rock,  you 
might  say,  as  shrug  himself,  in  a  manner  of 
speaking,  every  time  the  candle  went  off.  One 
can't  have  everything.  But  the  rest  surpassed 
our  highest  expectations.  I  think  Persimmon  was 
noblest  on  the  starboard  or  green  side — more  like 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  321 

when  a  man  thinks  he's  seeing  mackerel  in  hell, 
don't  you  know  ?  And  yet  I'd  be  the  last  to 
deprecate  the  effect  of  the  port  light  on  his  teeth, 
or  that  bloodshot  look  in  his  left  eye.  He  knew 
there  was  something  going  on  he  didn't  approve 
of.      He  looked  worried.' 

*  Did  you  laugh  ?  '  I  said. 

*  I'm  not  much  of  a  wag  myself ;  nor  it  wasn't 
as  if  we  'ad  time  to  allow  the  spectacle  to  sink  in. 
The  coloured  fires  was  supposed  to  burn  ten 
minutes,  whereas  it  was  obvious  to  the  meanest 
capacity  that  the  Junior  Service  would  arrive  by 
forced  marches  in  about  two  and  a  half.  They 
grarsped  our  topical  allusion  as  soon  as  it  was 
across  the  foot-lights,  so  to  speak.  They  were 
quite  chafed  at  it.  Of  course,  'ad  we  reflected,  we 
might  have  known  that  exposin'  illuminated 
rockin'  horses  to  an  army  that  was  learnin'  to  ride 
on  'em  partook  of  the  nature  of  a  double  entender, 
as  the  French  say — same  as  waggling  the  tiller 
lines  at  a  man  who's  had  a  hanging  in  the  family. 
I  knew  the  cox  of  the  Archimandrite  s  galley  'arf 
killed  for  a  similar  plaisanteree.  But  we  never 
anticipated  lobsters  being  so  sensitive.  That  was 
why  we  shifted.  We  could  'ardly  tear  our 
commandin'  officer  away.  He  put  his  head  on 
one  side,  and  kept  cooin'.  The  only  thing  he  'ad 
neglected  to  provide  was  a  line  of  retreat ;  but 
your  Mr.  Leggatt — an  'eroic  soul  in  the  last  stage 
of  wet  prostration — here  took  command  of  the 
van,  or,  rather,  the  rear-guard.  We  walked  down- 
hill beside  him,  holding  on  to  the  superstructure 
to  prevent  her  capsizing.     These  technical  details, 


322     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'owever,   are  beyond   me.'     He    waved    his   pipe 
towards  Leggatt. 

*  I  saw  there  was  two  deepish  ruts  leadin' 
down'ill  somewhere,'  said  Leggatt.  '  That  was 
when  the  soldiers  stopped  laughin',  and  begun  to 
run  uphill.' 

*  Stroll,  lovey,  stroll ! '  Pyecroft  corrected.  *  The 
Dervish  rush  took  place  later.' 

*  So  I  laid  her  in  these  ruts.  That  was  where 
she  must  'ave  scraped  her  silencer  a  bit.  Then  they 
turned  sharp  right — the  ruts  did — and  then  she 
stopped  bonnet-high  in  a  manure-heap,  sir  ;  but  I'll 
swear  it  was  all  of  a  one  in  three  gradient.  I  think 
it  was  a  barnyard.     We  waited  there,'  said  Leggatt. 

*  But  not  for  long,'  said  Pyecroft.  *  The  lights 
were  towering  out  of  the  drums  on  the  position 
we  'ad  so  valiantly  abandoned  ;  and  the  Junior 
Service  was  escaladin'  it  en  masse.  When  numerous 
bodies  of  'ighly  trained  men  arrive  simultaneous 
in  the  same  latitude  from  opposite  directions,  each 
remarking  briskly,  "  What  the  'ell  did  you  do 
that  for  ? "  detonation,  as  you  might  say,  is 
practically  assured.  They  didn't  ask  for  ex- 
traneous aids.  If  we'd  come  out  with  sworn 
affidavits  of  what  we'd  done  they  wouldn't  'ave 
believed  us.  They  wanted  each  other's  company 
exclusive.  Such  was  the  effect  of  Persimmon  on 
their  clarss  feelings.  Idol' try,  /  call  it !  Events 
transpired  with  the  utmost  velocity  and  rapidly 
increasing  pressures.  There  was  a  few  remarks 
about  Dicky  Bridoon  and  mechanical  horses,  and 
then  some  one  was  smacked — hard  by  the  sound — 
in  the  middle  of  a  remark.' 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  323 

'  That  was  the  man  who  kept  calling  for  the 
Forty-fifth  Dragoons,'  said  Leggatt.  '  He  got  as 
far  as  Drag  .   .  .  ' 

*  Was  it?'  said  Pyecroft  dreamily.  <Well,  he 
couldn't  say  they  didn't  come.  They  all  came, 
and  they  all  fell  to  arguin'  whether  the  Infantry 
should  'ave  Persimmon  for  a  regimental  pet  or 
the  Cavalry  should  keep  him  for  stud  purposes. 
Hence  the  issue  was  soon  clouded  with  mangold- 
wurzels.  Our  commander  said  we  'ad  sowed  the 
good  seed,  and  it  was  bearing  abundant  fruit. 
(They  weigh  between  four  and  seven  pounds 
apiece.)  Seein'  the  children  'ad  got  over  their 
shyness,  and  'ad  really  begun  to  play  games,  we 
backed  out  o'  the  pit  and  went  down,  by  steps,  to 
the  camp  below,  no  man,  as  you  might  say, 
making  us  afraid.  Here  we  enjoyed  a  front  view 
of  the  battle,  which  rolled  with  renewed  impetus, 
owing  to  both  sides  receiving  strong  reinforce- 
ments every  minute.  All  arms  were  freely  re- 
presented ;  Cavalry,  on  this  occasion  only,  acting 
in  concert  with  Artillery.  They  argued  the 
relative  merits  of  horses  versus  feet,  so  to  say, 
but  they  didn't  neglect  Persimmon.  The  wounded 
rolling  downhill  with  the  wurzels  informed  us 
that  he  had  long  ago  been  socialised,  and  the 
smallest  souvenirs  were  worth  a  man's  life. 
Speaking  broadly,  the  Junior  Service  appeared  to 
be  a  shade  out  of  'and,  if  I  may  venture  so  far. 
They  did  not  pay  prompt  and  unhesitating 
obedience  to  the  "  Retires "  or  the  "  Cease 
Fires "  or  the  "  For  'Eaven's  sake  come  to  bed, 
ducky"    of  their   officers,   who,   1   regret   to   say, 


324     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

were   'otly   embroiled    at    the    heads  of  their  re- 
spective units.' 

1  How  did  you  find  that  out  ? '  I  asked. 

*  On  account  of  Lootenant  Morshed  going  to 
the  Mess  tent  to  call  on  his  uncle  and  raise  a 
drink  ;  but  all  hands  had  gone  to  the  front.  We 
thought  we  'eard  somebody  bathing  behind  the 
tent,  and  we  found  an  oldish  gentleman  tryin'  to 
drown  a  boy  in  knickerbockers  in  a  horse-trough. 
He  kept  him  under  with  a  bicycle,  so  to  speak. 
He  'ad  nearly  accomplished  his  fell  design,  when 
we  frustrated  him.  He  was  in  a  highly  malleable 
condition  and  full  o'  juice  de  spree.  "  Arsk  not 
what  I  am,"  he  says.  "  My  wife  '11  tell  me  that 
quite  soon  enough.  Arsk  rather  what  I've  been," 
he  says.  "  I've  been  dinin'  here,"  he  says.  "  I 
commanded  'em  in  the  Eighties,"  he  says,  "  and, 
Gawd  forgive  me,"  he  says,  sobbin'  'eavily,  "  I've 
spent  this  holy  evening  telling  their  Colonel  they 
was  a  set  of  educated  inefficients.  Hark  to  'em  !  " 
We  could,  without  strainin'  ourselves  ;  but  how 
he  picked  up  the  gentle  murmur  of  his  own  corps 
in  that  on-the-knee  party  up  the  hill  I  don't  know. 
"  They've  marched  and  fought  thirty  mile  to- 
day," he  shouts,  "  and  now  they're  tearin'  the. 
intestines  out  of  the  Cavalry  up  yonder  !  They 
won't  stop  this  side  the  gates  o'  Delhi,"  he  says. 
"  I  commanded  their  ancestors.  There's  nothing 
wrong  with  the  Service,"  he  says,  wringing  out  his 
trousers  on  his  iap.  "  'Eaven  pardon  me  for 
doubtin'  'em !  Same  old  game — same  young 
beggars." 

'  The  boy  in  the   knickerbockers,  languishing 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  325 

on  a  chair,  puts  in  a  claim  for  one  drink.  "  Let 
him  go  dry,"  says  our  friend  in  shirt-tails.  "  He's 
a  reporter.  He  run  into  me  on  his  filthy  bicycle 
and  he  asked  me  if  I  could  furnish  'im  with 
particulars  about  the  mutiny  in  the  Army.  You 
false-'earted  proletarian  publicist,"  he  says,  shakin' 
his  finger  at  'im — for  he  was  reelly  annoyed — 
"  I'll  teach  you  to  defile  what  you  can't  compre- 
hend !  When  my  regiment's  in  a  state  o'  mutiny, 
I'll  do  myself  the  honour  of  informing  you 
personally.  You  particularly  ignorant  and  very 
narsty  little  man,"  he  says,  "  you're  no  better  than 
a  dhobi's  donkey  !  If  there  wasn't  dirty  linen  to 
wash,  you'd  starve,"  he  says,  "  and  why  I  haven't 
drowned  you  will  be  the  lastin'  regret  of  my  life." 
'  Well,  we  sat  with  'em  and  'ad  drinks  for 
about  half-an-hour  in  front  of  the  Mess  tent. 
He'd  ha'  killed  the  reporter  if  there  hadn't  been 
witnesses,  and  the  reporter  might  have  taken  notes 
of  the  battle  ;  so  we  acted  as  two-way  buffers,  in 
a  sense.  I  don't  hold  with  the  Press  mingling  up 
with  Service  matters.  They  draw  false  conclusions. 
Now,  mark  you,  at  a  moderate  estimate,  there  were 
seven  thousand  men  in  the  fighting  line,  half  of 
'em  hurt  in  their  professional  feelings,  an'  the 
other  half  rubbin'  in  the  liniment,  as  you  might 
say.  All  due  to  Persimmon  !  If  you  'adn't  seen 
it  you  wouldn't  'ave  believed  it.  And  yet,  mark 
you,  not  one  single  unit  of  'em  even  resorted  to 
his  belt.  They  confined  themselves  to  natural 
producks — hands  and  the  wurzels.  I  thought 
Jules  was  havin'  fits,  till  it  trarnspired  the  same 
thought  had  impressed  him  in  the  French  language. 


326     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

He  called  it  incroyable,  I  believe.  Seven  thousand 
men,  with  seven  thousand  rifles,  belts,  and  bayonets, 
in  a  violently  agitated  condition,  and  not  a  un- 
genteel  blow  struck  from  first  to  last.  The  old 
gentleman  drew  our  attention  to  it  as  well.  It 
was  quite  noticeable. 

*  Lack  of  ammunition  was  the  primerry  cause 
of  the  battle  ceasin'.  A  Brigade- Major  came  in, 
wipin'  his  nose  on  both  cuffs,  and  sayin'  he  'ad  'ad 
snuff.  The  brigadier-uncle  followed.  He  was, 
so  to  speak,  sneezin'.  We  thought  it  best  to 
shift  our  moorings  without  attractin'  attention  ;  so 
we  shifted.  They  'ad  called  the  cows  'ome  by 
then.  The  Junior  Service  was  going  to  bye-bye 
all  round  us,  as  happy  as  the  ship's  monkey  when 
he's  been  playin'  with  the  paints,  and  Lootenant 
Morshed  and  Jules  kept  bowin'  to  port  and  star- 
board of  the  superstructure,  acknowledgin'  the 
unstinted  applause  which  the  multitude  would  'ave 
given  'em  if  they'd  known  the  facts.  On  the 
other  'and,  as  your  Mr.  Leggatt  observed,  they 
might  'ave  killed  us. 

'  That  would  have  been  about  five  bells  in  the 
middle  watch,  say  half-past  two.  A  well-spent 
evening.  There  was  but  little  to  be  gained  by 
entering  Portsmouth  at  that  hour,  so  we  turned 
off  on  the  grass  (this  was  after  we  had  found  a  road 
under  us),  and  we  cast  anchors  out  at  the  stern 
and  prayed  for  the  day. 

'  But  your  Mr.  Leggatt  he  had  to  make  and 
mend  tyres  all  our  watch  below.  It  trarnspired 
she  had  been  running  on  the  rim  o'  two  or  three 
wheels,  which,  very  properly,  he  hadn't  reported 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  327 

till  the  close  of  the  action.  And  that's  the  reason 
of  your  four  new  tyres.  Mr.  Morshed  was  of 
opinion  you'd  earned  'em.     Do  you  dissent  ? ' 

I  stretched  out  my  hand,  which  Pyecroft 
crushed  to  pulp.  *  No,  Pye,'  I  said,  deeply  moved, 
'  I  agree  entirely.     But  what  happened  to  Jules  ? ' 

*  We  returned  him  to  his  own  Navy  after  break- 
fast. He  wouldn't  have  kept  much  longer  without 
some  due  in  his  own  language  to  tell  it  to.  I  don't 
know  any  man  I  ever  took  more  compassion  on 
than  Jules.  'Is  sufferings  swelled  him  up  centi- 
metres, and  all  he  could  do  on  the  Hard  was  to 
kiss  Lootenant  Morshed  and  me,  and  your  Mr. 
Leggatt.  He  deserved  that  much.  A  cordial 
beggar.' 

Pyecroft  looked  at  the  washed  cups  on  the 
table,  and  the  low  sunshine  on  my  car's  back  in 
the  yard. 

1  'Too  early  to  drink  to  him,'  he  said.  '  But  I 
feel  it  just  the  same.' 

The  uncle,  sunk  in  his  chair,  snored  a  little  ; 
the  canary  answered  with  a  shrill  lullaby.  Pye- 
croft picked  up  the  duster,  threw  it  over  the  cage, 
put  his  finger  to  his  lips,  and  we  tiptoed  out  into 
the  shop,  while  Leggatt  brought  the  car  round. 

'  I'll  look  out  for  the  news  in  the  papers,'  I 
said,  as  I  got  in. 

*  Oh,  we  short-circuited  that  !  Nothing  trarn- 
spired  excep'  a  statement  to  the  effect  that  some 
Territorial  battalions  had  played  about  with 
turnips  at  the  conclusion  of  the  manoeuvres. 
The  taxpayer  don't  know  all  he  gets  for  his 
money.      Farewell  !  ' 


328     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

We  moved  off  just  in  time  to  be  blocked  by  a 
regiment  coming  towards  the  station  to  entrain 
for  London. 

*  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  a  sergeant  in 
charge  of  the  baggage,  *  but  would  you  mind 
backin'  a  bit  till  we  get  the  waggons  past  ? ' 

*  Certainly,'  I  said.  '  You  don't  happen  to 
have  a  rocking-horse  among  your  kit,  do  you  ? ' 

The  rattle  of  our  reverse  drowned  his  answer, 
but  I  saw  his  eyes.  One  of  them  was  blackish- 
green,  about  four  days  old. 


THE   LEGEND   OF   MIRTH 

The  Four  Archangels,  so  the  legends  tell, 
Raphael,  Gabriel,  Michael,  Azrael, 
Being  first  of  those  to  whom  the  Power  was  shown, 
Stood  first  of  all  the  Host  before  The  Throne, 
And  when  the  Charges  were  allotted  burst 
Tumultuous-winged  from  out  the  assembly  first. 
Zeal  was  their  spur  that  bade  them  strictly  heed 
Their  own  high  judgment  on  their  lightest  deed. 
Zeal  was  their  spur  that,  when  relief  was  given, 
Urged  them  unwearied  to  fresh  toil  in  Heaven  ; 
For  Honour's  sake  perfecting  every  task 
Beyond  what  e'en  Perfection's  self  could  ask.   .    .    . 
And  Allah,  Who  created  Zeal  and  Pride, 
Knows  how  the  twain  are  perilous-near  allied. 

It  chanced  on  one  of  Heaven's  long-lighted  days, 
The  Four  and  all  the  Host  having  gone  their  ways 
Each  to  his  Charge,  the  shining  Courts  were  void 
Save  for  one  Seraph  whom  no  charge  employed, 
With  folden  wings  and  slumber-threatened  brow. 
To    whom    The    Word  :    '  Beloved,    what    dost 
thou  ? ' 

329 


33o     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  By  the  Permission,'  came  the  answer  soft, 

*  Little  I  do  nor  do  that  little  oft. 

As  is  The  Will  in  Heaven  so  on  Earth 
Where  by  The  Will  I  strive  to  make  men  mirth.' 
Ke   ceased   and    sped,    hearing   The  Word    once 
more  : 

*  Beloved,  go  thy  way  and  greet  the  Four.' 

Systems  and  Universes  overpast, 

The  Seraph  came  upon  the  Four,  at  last, 

Guiding  and  guarding  with  devoted  mind 

The  tedious  generations  of  mankind 

Who  lent  at  most  unwilling  ear  and  eye 

When  they  could  not  escape  the  ministry.   .   .   . 

Yet,  patient,  faithful,  firm,  persistent,  just 

Toward  all  that  gross,  indifferent,  facile  dust, 

The  Archangels  laboured  to  discharge  their  trust 

By  precept  and  example,  prayer  and  lav/, 

Advice,  reproof,  and  rule,  but,  labouring,  saw 

Each  in  his  fellow's  countenance  confessed, 

The  Doubt  that  sickens  :   *  Have  I  done  my  best  ?  ' 

Even  as  they  sighed  and  turned  to  toil  anew, 
The  Seraph  hailed  them  with  observance  due  ; 
And  after  some  fit  talk  of  higher  things 
Touched  tentative  on  mundane  happenings. 
This  they  permitting,  he,  emboldened  thus, 
Prolused  of  humankind  promiscuous. 
And,  since  the  large  contention  less  avails 
Than  instances  observed,  he  told  them  tales — 
Tales  of  the  shop,  the  bed,  the  court,  the  street, 
Intimate,  elemental,  indiscreet  : 
Occasions  where  Confusion  smiting  swift 


THE  LEGEND  OF  MIRTH         331 

Piles  jest  on  jest  as  snow-slides  pile  the  drift 

Whence,  one  by  one,  beneath  derisive  skies, 

The  victims  bare,  bewildered  heads  arise  : 

Tales  of  the  passing  of  the  spirit,  graced 

With  humour  blinding  as  the  doom  it  faced  : 

Stark  tales  of  ribaldry  that  broke  aside 

To  tears,  by  laughter  swallowed  ere  they  dried  : 

Tales  to  which  neither  grace  nor  gain  accrue, 

But  only  (Allah  be  exalted  !)  true, 

And  only,  as  the  Seraph  showed  that  night, 

Delighting  to  the  limits  of  delight. 

These  he  rehearsed  with  artful  pause  and  halt, 
And  such  pretence  of  memory  at  fault, 
That  soon  the  Four — so  well  the  bait  was  thrown — 
Came  to  his  aid  with  memories  of  their  own — 
Matters  dismissed  long  since  as  small  or  vain, 
WThereof  the  high  significance  had  lain 
Hid,  till  the  ungirt  glosses  made  it  plain. 
Then,  as  enlightenment  came  broad  and  fast, 
Each  marvelled  at  his  own  oblivious  past 
Until — the  Gates  of  Laughter  opened  wide — 
The  Four,  with  that  bland  Seraph  at  their  side, 
While  they  recalled,  compared,  and  amplified, 
In  utter  mirth  forgot  both  zeal  and  pride. 

High  over  Heaven  the  lamps  of  midnight  burned 
Ere,  weak  with  merriment,  the  Four  returned, 
Not  in  that  order  they  were  wont  to  keep — 
Pinion  to  pinion  answering,  sweep  for  sweep, 
In  awful  diapason  heard  afar, 
But  shoutingly  adrift  'twixt  star  and  star. 


332     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Reeling  a  planet's  orbit  left  or  right 
As  laughter  took  them  in  the  abysmal  Night  ; 
Or,  by  the  point  of  some  remembered  jest, 
Winged  and  brought  helpless  down  through  gulfs 

unguessed, 
Where  the  blank  worlds  that  gather  to  the  birth 
Leaped  in  the  womb  of  Darkness  at  their  mirth, 
And  e'en  Gehenna's  bondsmen  understood. 
They  were  not  damned  from  human  brotherhood. 

Not  first  nor  last  of  Heaven's  high  Host,  the  Four 
That  night  took  place  beneath  The  Throne  once 

more. 
O  lovelier  than  their  morning  majesty, 
The  understanding  light  behind  the  eye  ! 
O  more  compelling  than  their  old  command, 
The  new-learned  friendly  gesture  of  the  hand  ! 
O  sweeter  than  their  zealous  fellowship, 
The  wise  half-smile  that  passed  from  lip  to  lip  ! 
O  well  and  roundly,  when  Command  was  given, 
They  told  their  tale  against  themselves  to  Heaven, 
And  in  the  silence,  waiting  on  The  Word, 
Received  the  Peace  and  Pardon  of  The  Lord  ! 


My  Son's  Wife  ' 

O913) 

He  had  suffered  from  the  disease  of  the  century 
since  his  early  youth,  and  before  he  was  thirty  he 
was  heavily  marked  with  it.  He  and  a  few 
friends  had  rearranged  Heaven  very  comfortably, 
but  the  reorganisation  of  Earth,  which  they  called 
Society,  was  even  greater  fun.  It  demanded 
Work  in  the  shape  of  many  taxi -rides  daily  ; 
hours  of  brilliant  talk  with  brilliant  talkers  ;  some 
sparkling  correspondence  ;  a  {qw  silences  (but  on 
the  understanding  that  their  own  turn  should 
come  soon)  while  other  people  expounded  philo- 
sophies ;  and  a  fair  number  of  picture-galleries, 
tea-fights,  concerts,  theatres,  music-halls,  and 
cinema  shows ;  the  whole  trimmed  with  love- 
making  to  women  whose  hair  smelt  of  cigarette- 
smoke!  Such  strong  days  sent  Frankwell  Mid- 
more  back  to  his  fiat  assured  that  he  and  his 
friends  had  helped  the  World  a  step  nearer  the 
Truth,  the  Dawn,  and  the  New  Order. 

His    temperament,    he    said,    led    him     more 
towards     concrete     data      than      abstract     ideas. 

333 


334     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

People  who  investigate  detail  are  apt  to  be  tired 
at  the  day's  end.  The  same  temperament^  or  it 
may  have  been  a  woman,  made  him  early  attach 
himself  to  the  Immoderate  Left  of  his  Cause  in 
the  capacity  of  an  experimenter  in  Social  Relations. 
And  since  the  Immoderate  Left  contains  plenty 
of  women  anxious  to  help  earnest  inquirers  with 
large  independent  incomes  to  arrive  at  evalua- 
tions of  essentials,  Frankwell  Midmore's  lot  was 
far  from  contemptible. 

At  that  hour  Fate  chose  to  play  with  him.  A 
widowed  aunt,  widely  separated  by  nature,  and 
more  widely  by  marriage,  from  all  that  Midmore's 
mother  had  ever  been  or  desired  to  be,  died  and 
left  him  possessions.  Mrs.  Midmore,  having 
that  summer  embraced  a  creed  which  denied  the 
existence  of  death,  naturally  could  not  stoop  to 
burial ;  but  Midmore  had  to  leave  London  for 
the  dank  country  at  a  season  when  Social  Re- 
generation works  best  through  long,  cushioned 
conferences,  two  by  two,  after  tea.  There  he 
faced  the  bracing  ritual  of  the  British  funeral,  and 
was  wept  at  across  the  raw  grave  by  an  elderly 
cofHn-shaped  female  with  a  long  nose,  who  called 
him  *  Master  Frankie' ;  and  there  he  was  congratu- 
lated behind  an  echoing  top-hat  by  a  man  he 
mistook  for  a  mute,  who  turned  out  to  be  his 
aunt's  lawyer.  He  wrote  his  mother  next  day, 
after  a  bright  account  of  the  funeral  : 

'  So  far  as  I  can  understand,  she  has  left  me 
between  four  and  five  hundred  a  year.  It  all 
comes  from  Ther  Land,  as  they  call  it  down  here. 
The  unspeakable  attorney,  Sperrit,  and  a  green- 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE*  335 

eyed  daughter,  who  hums  to  herself  as  she  tramps 
but  is  silent  on  all  subjects  except  "  huntin'," 
insisted  on  taking  me  to  see  it.  Ther  Land  is 
brown  and  green  in  alternate  slabs  like  chocolate 
and  pistachio  cakes,  speckled  with  occasional 
peasants  who  do  not  utter.  In  case  it  should  not 
be  wet  enough  there  is  a  wet  brook  in  the  middle 
of  it.  Ther  House  is  by  the  brook.  I  shall 
look  into  it  later.  If  there  should  be  any  little 
memento  of  Jenny  that  you  care  for,  let  me 
know.  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  mid-Victorian 
furniture  is  coming  into  the  market  again  ? 
Jenny's  old  maid — it  is  called  Rhoda  Dolbie — 
tells  me  that  Jenny  promised  it  thirty  pounds  a 
year.  The  will  does  not.  Hence,  I  suppose,  the 
tears  at  the  funeral.  But  that  is  close  on  ten  per 
cent  of  the  income.  I  fancy  Jenny  has  destroyed 
all  her  private  papers  and  records  of  her  vie  intime, 
if,  indeed,  life  be  possible  in  such  a  place.  The 
Sperrit  man  told  me  that  if  I  had  means  of  my 
own  I  might  come  and  live  on  Ther  Land.  I 
didn't  tell  him  how  much  I  would  pay  not  to  ! 
I  cannot  think  it  right  that  any  human  being 
should  exercise  mastery  over  others  in  the  merci- 
less fashion  our  tom-fool  social  system  permits  ; 
so,  as  it  is  all  mine,  I  intend  to  sell  it  whenever  the 
unholy  Sperrit  can  find  a  purchaser.' 

And  he  went  to  Mr.  Sperrit  with  the  idea  next 
day,  just  before  returning  to  town. 

'  Quite  so,'  said  the  lawyer.  '  I  see  your  point, 
of  course.  But  the  house  itself  is  rather  old- 
fashioned — hardly  the  type  purchasers  demand 
nowadays.     There's  no  park,  of  course,  and  the 


^6     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

bulk,  of  the  land  is  let  to  a  life-tenant,  a  Mr. 
Sidney.  As  long  as  he  pays  his  rent,  he  can't  be 
turned  out,  and  even  if  he  didn't ' — Mr.  Sperrit's 
face  relaxed  a  shade — '  you  might  have  a  difficulty.' 

*  The  property  brings  four  hundred  a  year,  I 
understand,'  said  Midmore. 

'  Well,  hardly — ha-ardly.  Deducting  land  and 
income  tax,  tithes,  fire  insurance,  cost  of  collection 
and  repairs  of  course,  it  leturned  two  hundred 
and  eighty-four  pounds  last  year.  The  repairs 
are  rather  a  large  item — owing  to  the  brook.  I 
call  it  Liris — out  of  Horace,  you  know.' 

Midmore  looked  at  his  watch  impatiently. 

' 1  suppose  you  can  find  somebody  to  buy  it  ? ' 
he  repeated. 

'  We  will  do  our  best,  of  course,  if  those  are 
your  instructions.  Then,  that  is  all  except ' — here 
Midmore  half  rose,  but  Mr.  Sperrit's  little  grey 
eyes  held  his  large  brown  ones  firmly — '  except 
about  Rhoda  Dolbie,  Mrs.  Werf's  maid.  I  may 
tell  you  that  we  did  not  draw  up  your  aunt's  last 
will.  She  grew  secretive  towards  the  last — elderly 
people  often  do — and  had  it  done  in  London.  I 
expect  her  memory  failed  her,  or  she  mislaid  her 
notes.  She  used  to  put  them  in  her  spectacle- 
case.  .  .  .  My  motor  only  takes  eight  minutes  to 
get  to  the  station,  Mr.  Midmore  .  .  .  but,  as  I 
was  saying,  whenever  she  made  her  will  with  us, 
Mrs.  Werf  always  left  Rhoda  thirty  pounds  per 
annum.  Charlie,  the  wills ! '  A  clerk  with  a 
baldish  head  and  a  long  nose  dealt  documents  on 
to  the  table  like  cards,  and  breathed  heavily  behind 
Midmore.     '  It's  in  no  sense  a  legal  obligation,  of 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  337 

course,'  said  Mr.  Sperrit.  '  Ah,  that  one  is  dated 
January  the  nth,  eighteen  eighty-nine.' 

Midmore  looked  at  his  watch  again  and  found 
himself  saying  with  no  good  grace  :  '  Well,  I 
suppose  she'd  better  have  it — for  the  present  at 
any  rate.' 

He  escaped  with  an  uneasy  feeling  that  two 
hundred  and  fifty-four  pounds  a  year  was  not 
exactly  four  hundred,  and  that  Charlie's  long  nose 
annoyed  him.  Then  he  returned,  first-class,  to 
his  own  affairs. 

Of  the  two,  perhaps  three,  experiments  in  Social 
Relations  which  he  had  then  in  hand,  one  interested 
him  acutely.  It  had  run  for  some  months  and 
promised  most  variegated  and  interesting  develop- 
ments, on  which  he  dwelt  luxuriously  all  the  way 
to  town.  When  he  reached  his  flat  he  was  not 
well  prepared  for  a  twelve-page  letter  explaining, 
in  the  diction  of  the  Immoderate  Left  which 
rubricates  its  I's  and  illuminates  its  T's,  that  the 
lady  had  realised  greater  attractions  in  another 
Soul.  She  re-stated,  rather  than  pleaded,  the  gospel 
of  the  Immoderate  Left  as  her  justification,  and 
ended  in  an  impassioned  demand  for  her  right  to 
express  herself  in  and  on  her  own  life,  through 
which,  she  pointed  out,  she  could  pass  but  once. 
She  added  that  if,  later,  she  should  discover 
Midmore  was  '  essentially  complementary  to  her 
needs,'  she  would  tell  him  so.  That  Midmore  had 
himself  written  much  the  same  sort  of  epistle — 
barring  the  hint  of  return — to  a  woman  of  whom 
his  needs  for  self-expression  had  caused  him  to 
weary  three  years  before,  did   not   assist  him  in 

z 


338     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  least.  He  expressed  himself  to  the  gas-fire 
in  terms  essential  but  not  complimentary.  Then 
he  reflected  on  the  detached  criticism  of  his  best 
friends  and  her  best  friends,  male  and  female,  with 
whom  he  and  she  and  others  had  talked  so  openly 
while  their  gay  adventure  was  in  flower.  He 
recalled,  too — this  must  have  been  about  midnight 
— her  analysis  from  every  angle,  remote  and  most 
intimate,  of  the  mate  to  whom  she  had  been 
adjudged  under  the  base  convention  which  is  styled 
marriage.  Later,  at  that  bad  hour  when  the  cattle 
wake  for  a  little,  he  remembered  her  in  other 
aspects  and  went  down  into  the  hell  appointed  ; 
desolate,  desiring,  with  no  God  to  call  upon. 
About  eleven  o'clock  next  morning  Eliphaz  the 
Temanite,  Bildad  the  Shuhite,  and  Zophar  the 
Naamathite  called  upon  him  '  for  they  had  made 
appointment  together '  to  see  how  he  took  it  ;  but 
the  janitor  told  them  that  Job  had  gone — into  the 
country,  he  believed. 

Midmore's  relief  when  he  found  his  story  was 
not  written  across  his  aching  temples  for  Mr. 
Sperrit  to  read — the  defeated  lover,  like  the 
successful  one,  believes  all  earth  privy  to  his  soul 
— was  put  down  by  Mr.  Sperrit  to  quite  different 
causes.  He  led  him  into  a  morning-room.  The 
rest  of  the  house  seemed  to  be  full  of  people, 
singing  to  a  loud  piano  idiotic  songs  about  cows, 
and  the  hall  smelt  of  damp  cloaks. 

*  It's  our  evening  to  take  the  winter  cantata,' 
Mr.  Sperrit  explained.  '  It's  "  High  Tide  on  the 
Coast  of  Lincolnshire."  I  hoped  you'd  come 
back.     There  are  scores  of  little  things  to  settle. 


1  MY  SON'S  WIFE  '  339 

As  for  the  house,  of  course,  it  stands  ready  for  you 
at  any  time.  I  couldn't  get  Rhoda  out  of  it — nor 
could  Charlie  for  that  matter.  She's  the  sister, 
isn't  she,  of  the  nurse  who  brought  you  down 
here  when  you  were  four,  she  says,  to  recover  from 
measles  ? ' 

*  Is  she  ?  Was  I  ? '  said  Midmore  through  the 
bad  tastes  in  his  mouth.  '  D'you  suppose  I  could 
stay  there  the  night  ? ' 

Thirty  joyous  young  voices  shouted  appeal  to 
some  one  to  leave  their  'pipes  of  parsley  'ollow — 
'ollow  —  'ollow  ! '  Mr.  Sperrit  had  to  raise  his 
voice  above  the  din. 

*  Well,  if  I  asked  you  to  stay  here,  I  should 
never  hear  the  last  of  it  from  Rhoda.  She's  a  little 
cracked,  of  course,  but  the  soul  of  devotion  and 
capable  of  anything.     Ne  sit  ancillae,  you  know.' 

'Thank  you.  Then  I'll  go.  I'll  walk.'  He 
stumbled  out  dazed  and  sick  into  the  winter  twi- 
light, and  sought  the  square  house  by  the  brook. 

It  was  not  a  dignified  entry,  because  when  the 
door  was  unchained  and  Rhoda  exclaimed,  he  took 
two  valiant  steps  into  the  hall  and  then  fainted — 
as  men  sometimes  will  after  twenty-two  hours  of 
strong  emotion  and  little  food. 

*  I'm  sorry,'  he  said  when  he  could  speak.  He 
was  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  his  head  on 
Rhoda's  lap. 

*  Your  'ome  is  your  castle,  sir,'  was  the  reply 
in  his  hair.  '  I  smelt  it  wasn't  drink.  You  lay 
on  the  sofa  till  I  get  your  supper.' 

She  settled  him  in  a  drawing-room  hung  with 
yellow  silk,  heavy  with  the  smell  of  dead  leaves 


34Q     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  oil  lamp.  Something  murmured  soothingly 
in  the  background  and  overcame  the  noises  in  his 
head.  He  thought  he  heard  horses'  feet  on  wet 
gravel  and  a  voice  singing  about  ships  and  flocks 
and  grass.  It  passed  close  to  the  shuttered  bay- 
window. 

But  each  will  mourn  his  own,  she  saith, 
And  sweeter  woman  ne'er  drew  breath 
Than  my  son's  wife,  Elizabeth  .  .   . 
Cusha — cusha — cusha — calling. 

The  hoofs  broke  into  a  canter  as  Rhoda  entered 
with  the  tray.  '  And  then  I'll  put  you  to  bed,' 
she  said.  '  Sidney's  coming  in  the  morning.' 
Midmore  asked  no  questions.  He  dragged  his 
poor  bruised  soul  to  bed  and  would  have  pitied  it 
all  over  again,  but  the  food  and  warm  sherry  and 
water  drugged  him  to  instant  sleep. 

Rhoda's  voice  wakened  him,  asking  whether  he 
would  have  '  'ip,  foot,  or  sitz,'  which  he  under- 
stood were  the  baths  of  the  establishment.  *  Sup- 
pose you  try  all  three,'  she  suggested.  *  They're 
all  yours,  you  know,  sir.' 

He  would  have  renewed  his  sorrows  with  the 
daylight,  but  her  words  struck  him  pleasantly. 
Everything  his  eyes  opened  upon  was  his  very  own 
to  keep  for  ever.  The  carved  four-post  Chippen- 
dale bed,  obviously  worth  hundreds  ;  the  wavy 
walnut  William  and  Mary  chairs — he  had  seen 
worse  ones  labelled  twenty  guineas  apiece ;  the 
oval  medallion  mirror ;  the  delicate  eighteenth- 
century  wire  fireguard  ;  the  heavy  brocaded  cur- 
tains were  his — all  his.  So,  too,  a  great  garden 
full  of  birds  that  faced  him  when  he  shaved  ;   a 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  341 

mulberry  tree,  a  sun-dial,  and  a  dull,  steel-coloured 
brook  that  murmured  level  with  the  edge  of  a 
lawn  a  hundred  yards  away.  Peculiarly  and  pri- 
vately his  own  was  the  smell  of  sausages  and  coffee 
that  he  sniffed  at  the  head  of  the  wide  square 
landing,  all  set  round  with  mysterious  doors  and 
Bartolozzi  prints.  He  spent  two  hours  after 
breakfast  in  exploring  his  new  possessions.  His 
heart  leaped  up  at  such  things  as  sewing-machines, 
a  rubber-tyred  bath-chair  in  a  tiled  passage,  a  mala- 
chite-headed Malacca  cane,  boxes  and  boxes  of 
unopened  stationery,  seal-rings,  bunches  of  keys, 
and  at  the  bottom  of  a  steel-net  reticule,  a  little 
leather  purse  with  seven  pounds  ten  shillings  in 
gold  and  eleven  shillings  in  silver. 

'  You  used  to  play  with  that  when  my  sister 
brought  you  down  here  after  your  measles,'  said 
Rhoda  as  he  slipped  the  money  into  his  pocket. 
'  Now,  this  was  your  pore  dear  auntie's  business- 
room.'  She  opened  a  low  door.  '  Oh,  I  forgot 
about  Mr.  Sidney  !  There  he  is.'  An  enormous 
old  man  with  rheumy  red  eyes  that  blinked  under 
downy  white  eyebrows  sat  in  an  Empire  chair,  his 
cap  in  his  hands.  Rhoda  withdrew  sniffing.  The 
man  looked  Midmore  over  in  silence,  then  jerked 
a  thumb  towards  the  door.  '  I  reckon  she  told 
you  who  I  be,'  he  began.  'I'm  the  only  farmer 
you've  got.  Nothin'  goes  off  my  place  'thout 
it  walks  on  its  own  feet.  What  about  my  pig- 
pound  ?' 

'  Well,  what  about  it  ? '  said  Midmore. 

'  That's  just  what  I  be  come  about.  The 
County  Councils  are  getting  more  particular.     Did 


342     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

ye  know  there  was  swine  fever  at  Pashell's  ?  There 
be.     It'll  'ave  to  be  in  brick.' 

'Yes,'  said  Midmore  politely. 

*  I've  bin  at  your  aunt  that  was,  plenty  times 
about  it.  I  don't  say  she  wasn't  a  just  woman,  but 
she  didn't  read  the  lease  same  way  I  did.  I  be 
used  to  bein'  put  upon,  but  there's  no  doing  any 
longer  'thout  that  pig-pound.' 

'  When  would  you  like  it  ? '  Midmore  asked. 
It  seemed  the  easiest  road  to  take. 

'  Any  time  or  other  suits  me,  I  reckon.  He 
ain't  thrivin'  where  he  is,  an'  I  paid  eighteen  shillin' 
for  him.'  He  crossed  his  hands  on  his  stick  and 
gave  no  further  sign  of  life. 

'  Is  that  all  ? '  Midmore  stammered. 

'  All  now — excep' ' — he  glanced  fretfully  at 
the  table  beside  him — '  excep'  my  usuals.  Where's 
that  Rhoda  ? ' 

Midmore  rang  the  bell.  Rhoda  came  in  with 
a  bottle  and  a  glass.  The  old  man  helped  himself 
to  four  stiff  fingers,  rose  in  one  piece,  and  stumped 
out.  At  the  door  he  cried  ferociously  :  '  Don't 
suppose  it's  any  odds  to  you  whether  I'm  drowned 
or  not,  but  them  floodgates  want  a  wheel  and 
winch,  they  do.  I  be  too  old  for  liftin'  'em  with 
the  bar — my  time  o'  life.' 

'  Good  riddance  if  'e  was  drowned,'  said  Rhoda. 
1  But  don't  you  mind  him.  He's  only  amusin' 
himself.  Your  pore  dear  auntie  used  to  give  'im 
'is  usual — 'tisn't  the  whisky  you  drink — an'  send 
'im  about-  'is  business.' 

1 1  see.  Now,  is  a  pig-pound  the  same  thing 
as  a  pig-sty  ?  ' 


■  MY  SON'S  WIFE'  343 

Rhoda  nodded.  '  'E  needs  one,  too,  but  'e  ain't 
entitled  to  it.  You  look  at  'is  lease — third  drawer 
on  the  left  in  that  Bombay  cab'net — an'  next  time 
'e  comes  you  ask  'im  to  read  it.  That'll  choke 
'im  off,  because  'e  can't !  ' 

There  was  nothing  in  Midmore's  past  to  teach 
him  the  message  and  significance  of  a  hand-written 
lease  of  the  late  'eighties,  but  Rhoda  interpreted. 

'  It  don't  mean  anything  reelly,'  was  her 
cheerful  conclusion,  *  excep'  you  mustn't  get  rid 
of  him  anyhow,  an'  'e  can  do  what  'e  likes  always. 
Lucky  for  us  'e  do  farm  ;  and  if  it  wasn't  for  'is 
woman ' 

'  Oh,  there's  a  Mrs.  Sidney,  is  there  ? ' 

1  Lor,  no  !  '  The  Sidneys  don't  marry.  They 
keep.  That's  his  fourth  since — to  my  knowledge. 
He  was  a  takin'  man  from  the  first.' 

1  Any  families  ? ' 

'  They'd  be  grown  up  by  now  if  there  was, 
wouldn't  they  ?  But  you  can't  spend  all  your 
days  considerin'  'is  interests.  That's  what  gave 
your  pore  aunt  'er  indigestion.  'Ave  you  seen  the 
gun-room  ? ' 

Midmore  held  strong  views  on  the  immorality 
of  taking  life  for  pleasure.  But  there  was  no 
denying  that  the  late  Colonel  Werf's  seventy- 
guinea  breechloaders  were  good  at  their  filthy  job. 
He  loaded  one,  took  it  out  and  pointed — merely 
pointed — it  at  a  cock-pheasant  which  rose  out  of 
a  shrubbery  behind  the  kitchen,  and  the  flaming 
bird  came  down  in  a  long  slant  on  the  lawn,  stone 
dead.  Rhoda  from  the  scullery  said  it  was  a  lovely 
shot,  and  told  him  lunch  was  ready. 


344     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

He  spent  the  afternoon  gun  in  one  hand,  a  map 
in  the  other,  beating  the  bounds  of  his  lands.  They 
lay  altogether  in  a  shallow,  uninteresting  valley, 
flanked  with  woods  and  bisected  by  a  brook.  Up 
stream  was  his  own  house  ;  down  stream,  less  than 
half  a  mile,  a  low  red  farm-house  squatted  in  an 
old  orchard,  beside  what  looked  like  small  lock- 
gates  on  the  Thames.  There  was  no  doubt  as  to 
ownership.  Mr.  Sidney  saw  him  while  yet  far  off, 
and  bellowed  at  him  about  pig-pounds  and  flood- 
gates. These  last  were  two  great  sliding  shutters 
of  weedy  oak  across  the  brook,  which  were  prised 
up  inch  by  inch  with  a  crowbar  along  a  notched 
strip  of  iron,  and  when  Sidney  opened  them  they 
at  once  let  out  half  the  water.  Mid  more  watched 
it  shrink  between  its  aldered  banks  like  some 
conjuring  trick.     This,  too,,  was  his  very  own. 

i  I  see,'  he  said.  '  How  interesting  !  Now, 
what's  that  bell  for  ? '  he  went  on,  pointing  to  an 
old  ship's  bell  in  a  rude  belfry  at  the  end  of  an 
outhouse.  '  Was  that  a  chapel  once  ?  '  The  red- 
eyed  giant  seemed  to  have  difficulty  in  expressing 
himself  for  the  moment  and  blinked  savagely. 

'  Yes,'  he  said  at  last.  '  My  chapel.  When 
you  'ear  that  bell  ring  you'll  'ear  something. 
Nobody  but  me  ud  put  up  with  it — but  I  reckon 
it  don't  make  any  odds  to  you.'  He  slammed  the 
gates  down  again,  and  the  brook  rose  behind  them 
with  a  suck  and  a  grunt. 

Midmore  moved  off,  conscious  that  he  might 
be  safer  with  Rhoda  to  hold  his  conversational 
hand.  As  he  passed  the  front  of  the  farm-house 
a  smooth  fat  woman,  with  neatly  parted  grey  hair 


<  MY  SON'S  WIFE  '  345 

under  a  widow's  cap,  curtsied  to  him  deferentially 
through  the  window.  By  every  teaching  of  the 
Immoderate  Left  she  had  a  perfect  right  to  express 
herself  in  any  way  she  pleased,  but  the  curtsey 
revolted  him.  And  on  his  way  home  he  was 
hailed  from  behind  a  hedge  by  a  manifest  idiot 
with  no  roof  to  his  mouth,  who  hallooed  and  danced 
round  him. 

*  What  did  that  beast  want  ? '  he  demanded  of 
Rhoda  at  tea. 

'Jimmy  ?  He  only  wanted  to  know  if  you  'ad 
any  telegrams  to  send.  'E'll  go  anywhere  so  long 
as  'tisn't  across  running  water.  That  gives  'im  'is 
seizures.  Even  talkin'  about  it  for  fun  like  makes 
'im  shake.' 

*  But  why  isn't  he  where  he  can  be  properly 
looked  after  ? ' 

'  What  'arm's  'e  doing  ?  'E's  a  love-child,  but 
'is  family  can  pay  for  'im.  If  'e  was  locked  up 
'e'd  die  all  off  at  once,  like  a  wild  rabbit,  Won't 
you,  please,  look  at  the  drive,  sir  ?  ' 

Midmore  looked  in  the  fading  light.  The  neat 
gravel  was  pitted  with  large  roundish  holes,  and 
there  was  a  punch  or  two  of  the  same  sort  on  the 
lawn. 

'  That's  the  'unt  comin'  'ome,'  Rhoda  explained. 
'  Your  pore  dear  auntie  always  let  'em  use  our 
drive  for  a  short  cut  after  the  Colonel  died.  The 
Colonel  wouldn't  so  much  because  he  preserved ; 
but  your  auntie  was  always  an  'orsewoman  till  'er 
sciatica.' 

'  Isn't  there  some  one  who  can  rake  it  over  or 
— or  something  ? '  said  Midmore  vaguely. 


346     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Oh  yes.  You'll  never  see  it  in  the  morning, 
but — you  was  out  when  they  came  'ome  an'  Mister 
Fisher — he's  the  Master — told  me  to  tell  you  with 
'is  compliments  that  if  you  wasn't  preservin*  and 
cared  to  'old  to  the  old  understandin',  'is  gravel- 
pit  is  at  your  service  same  as  before.  'E  thought, 
perhaps,  you  mightn't  know,  and  it  'ad  slipped 
my  mind  to  tell  you.  It's  good  gravel,  Mister 
Fisher's,  and  it  binds  beautiful  on  the  drive.  We 
'ave  to  draw  it,  o'  course,  from  the  pit,  but ' 

Midmore  looked  at  her  helplessly. 

'  Rhoda,'  said  he,  c  what  am  I  supposed  to  do  ?  ' 

*  Oh,  let  'em  come  through,'  she  replied.  'You 
never  know.  You  may  want  to  'unt  yourself 
some  day.' 

That  evening  it  rained  and  his  misery  returned 
on  him,  the  worse  for  having  been  diverted.  At 
last  he  was  driven  to  paw  over  a  few  score  books 
in  a  panelled  room  called  the  library,  and  realised 
with  horror  what  the  late  Colonel  Werf's  mind 
must  have  been  in  its  prime.  The  volumes  smelt 
of  a  dead  world  as  strongly  as  they  did  of  mildew. 
He  opened  and  thrust  them  back,  one  after  another, 
till  crude  coloured  illustrations  of  men  on  horses  held 
his  eye.  He  began  at  random  and  read  a  little, 
moved  into  the  drawing-room  with  the  volume, 
and  settled  down  by  the  fire  still  reading.  It  was 
a  foul  world  into  which  he  peeped  for  the  first 
time — a  heavy-eating,  hard-drinking  hell  of  horse- 
copers,  swindlers,  matchmaking  mothers,  economic- 
ally dependent  virgins  selling  themselves  blushingly 
for  cash  and  lands  :  Jews,  tradesmen,  and  an 
ill-considered   spawn  of  Dickens- and -horsedung 


■  MY  SON'S  WIFE  ' 


347 


characters  (I  give  Midmore's  own  criticism),  but 
he  read  on,  fascinated,  and  behold,  from  the  pages 
leaped,  as  it  were,  the  brother  to  the  red-eyed 
man  of  the  brook,  bellowing  at  a  landlord  (here 
Midmore  realised  that  he  was  that  very  animal) 
for  new  barns ;  and  another  man  who,  like  himself 
again,  objected  to  hoof-marks  on  gravel.  Out- 
rageous as  thought  and  conception  were,  the  stuff 
seemed  to  have  the  rudiments  of  observation.  He 
dug  out  other  volumes  by  the  same  author,  till 
Rhoda  came  in  with  a  silver  candlestick. 

1  Rhoda,'  said  he,  '  did  you  ever  hear  about  a 
character  called  James  Pigg — and  Batsey  ?  ' 

*  Why,  o'  course,'  said  she.  '  The  Colonel 
used  to  come  into  the  kitchen  in  'is  dressin'-gown 

D 

an'  read  us  all  those  Jorrockses.' 

*  Oh,  Lord  !  '  said  Midmore,  and  went  to  bed 
with  a  book  called  Handley  Cross  under  his  arm, 
and  a  lonelier  Columbus  into  a  stranger  world 
the  wet-ringed  moon  never  looked  upon. 

Here  we  omit  much.  But  Midmore  never 
denied  that  for  the  epicure  in  sensation  the  urgent 
needs  of  an  ancient  house,  as  interpreted  by  Rhoda 
pointing  to  daylight  through  attic-tiles  held  in 
place  by  moss,  gives  an  edge  to  the  pleasure  of 
Social  Research  elsewhere.  Equally  he  found  that 
the  reaction  following  prolonged  research  loses 
much  of  its  grey  terror  if  one  knows  one  can  at 
will  bathe  the  soul  in  the  society  of  plumbers  (all 
the  water-pipes  had  chronic  appendicitis),  village 
idiots  (Jimmy  had  taken  Midmore  under  his  weak 
wing  and  camped  daily  at  the   drive-gates),  and 


348     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

a  giant  with  red  eyelids  whose  every  action  is  an 
unpredictable  outrage. 

Towards  spring  Midmore  filled  his  house  with 
a  few  friends  of  the  Immoderate  Left.  It  happened 
to  be  the  day  when,  all  things  and  Rhoda  working 
together,  a  cartload  of  bricks,  another  of  sand, 
and  some  bags  of  lime  had  been  despatched  to 
build  Sidney  his  almost  daily -demanded  pig- 
pound.  Midmore  took  his  friends  across  the  flat 
fields  with  some  idea  of  showing  them  Sidney  as 
a  type  of  *  the  peasantry.'  They  hit  the  minute 
when  Sidney,  hoarse  with  rage,  was  ordering  brick- 
layer, mate,  carts  and  all  off  his  premises.  The 
visitors  disposed  themselves  to  listen. 

'  You  never  give  me  no  notice  about  changin' 
the  pig,'  Sidney  shouted.  The  pig  —  at  least 
eighteen  inches  long — reared  on  end  in  the  old 
sty  and  smiled  at  the  company. 

*  But,  my  good  man '  Midmore  opened. 

'  I  ain't !  For  aught  you  know  I  be  a  dam' 
sight  worse  than  you  be.  You  can't  come  and 
be'ave  arbit'ry  with  me.  You  are  be'avin'  arbit'ry  ! 
All  you  men  go  clean  away  an'  don't  set  foot  on 
my  land  till  I  bid  ye.' 

*  But  you  asked  ' — Midmore  felt  his  voice  jump 
up — '  to  have  the  pig-pound  built.' 

'  'Spose  I  did,  That's  no  reason  you  shouldn't 
send  me  notice  to  change  the  pig.  'Comin'  down 
on  me  like  this  'thout  warnin'  !  That  pig's  got 
to  be  got  into  the  cowshed  an'  all.' 

'  Then  open  the  door  and  let  him  run  in,'  said 
Midmore. 

'  Don't    you   be'ave   arbit'ry   with   me !     Take 


<MY  SON'S  WIFE'  349 

all  your  dam'  men  'ome  off  my  land.  I  won't 
be  treated  arbit'ry.' 

The  carts  moved  off  without  a  word,  and 
Sidney  went  into  the  house  and  slammed  the  door. 

'  Now,  I  hold  that  is  enormously  significant,' 
said  a  visitor.  '  Here  you  have  the  logical  out- 
come of  centuries  of  feudal  oppression — the  frenzy 
of  fear.'  The  company  looked  at  Midmore  with 
grave  pain. 

'  But  he  did  worry  my  life  out  about  his  pig-sty,' 
was  all  Midmore  found  to  say. 

Others  took  up  the  parable  and  proved  to 
him  if  he  only  held  true  to  the  gospels  of  the 
Immoderate  Left  the  earth  would  soon  be  covered 
with  'jolly  little'  pig-sties,  built  in  the  intervals  of 
morris-dancing  by  '  the  peasant '  himself. 

Midmore  felt  grateful  when  the  door  opened 
again  and  Mr.  Sidney  invited  them  all  to  retire 
to  the  road  which,  he  pointed  out,  was  public. 
As  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  a  smooth- 
faced woman  in  a  widow's  cap  curtsied  to  each 
of  them  through  the  window. 

Instantly  they  drew  pictures  of  that  woman's 
lot,  deprived  of  all  vehicle  for  self-expression — 
'the  set  grey  life  and  apathetic  end,'  one  quoted 
— and  they  discussed  the  tremendous  significance 
of  village  theatricals.  Even  a  month  ago  Midmore 
would  have  told  them  all  that  he  knew  and  Rhoda 
had  dropped  about  Sidney's  forms  of  self-ex- 
pression. Now,  for  some  strange  reason,  he  was 
content  to  let  the  talk  run  on  from  village  to 
metropolitan  and  world  drama. 

Rhoda  advised  him  after  the  visitors  left  that 


350     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  if  he  wanted  to  do  that  again '  he  had  better  go 
up  to  town. 

'  But  we  only  sat  on  cushions  on  the  floor,' 
said  her  master. 

*  They're  too  old  for  romps,'  she  retorted,  '  an' 
it's  only  the  beginning  of  things.  I've  seen  what 
Vve  seen.  Besides,  they  talked  and  laughed  in  the 
passage  going  to  their  baths— such  as  took  'em.' 

1  Don't  be  a  fool,  Rhoda,'  said  Midmore.  No 
man  —  unless  he  has  loved  her — will  casually 
dismiss  a  woman  on  whose  lap  he  has  laid  his 
head. 

'Very  good,'  she  snorted,  'but  that  cuts  both 
ways.  An'  now,  you  go  down  to  Sidney's  this 
evenin'  and  put  him  where  he  ought  to  be.  He 
was  in  his  right  about  you  givin'  'im  notice  about 
changin'  the  pig,  but  he  'adn't  any  right  to  turn 
it  up  before  your  company.  No  manners,  no 
pig-pound.     He'll  understand.' 

Midmore  did  his  best  to  make  him.  He 
found  himself  reviling  the  old  man  in  speech  and 
with  a  joy  quite  new  in  all  his  experience.  He 
wound  up — it  was  a  plagiarism  from  a  plumber — 
by  telling  Mr.  Sidney  that  he  looked  like  a  turkey- 
cock,  had  the  morals  of  a  parish  bull,  and  need 
never  hope  for  a  new  pig-pound  as  long  as  he  or 
Midmore  lived. 

*.  Very  good,'  said  the  giant.  '  I  reckon  you 
thought  you  'ad  something  against  me,  and  now 
you've  come  down  an'  told  it  me  like  man  to  man. 
Quite  right.  I  don't  bear  malice.  Now,  you 
send  along  those  bricks  an'  sand,  an'  I'll  make  a 
do  to  build  the  pig-pound  myself.     If  you  look  at 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  351 

my  lease  you'll  find  out  you're  bound  to  provide 
me  materials  for  the  repairs.  Only — only  I 
thought  there'd  be  no  'arm  in  my  askin'  you  to  do 
it  throughout  like.' 

Midmore  fairly  gasped.  '  Then,  why  the 
devil  did  you  turn  my  carts  back  when — when 
I  sent  them  up  here  to  do  it  throughout  for  you  ? ' 

Mr.  Sidney  sat  down  on  the  floodgates,  his 
eyebrows  knitted  in  thought. 

*  I'll  tell  you,'  he  said  slowly.  '  'Twas  too 
dam'  like  cheatin'  a  suckin'  baby.  My  woman, 
she  said  so  too.' 

For  a  few  seconds  the  teachings  of  the  Im- 
moderate Left,  whose  humour  is  all  their  own, 
wrestled  with  those  of  Mother  Earth,  who  has 
her  own  humours.  Then  Midmore  laughed  till 
he  could  scarcely  stand.  In  due  time  Mr.  Sidney 
laughed  too — crowing  and  wheezing  crescendo 
till  it  broke  from  him  in  roars.  They  shook 
hands,  and  Midmore  went  home  grateful  that  he 
had  held  his  tongue  among  his  companions. 

When  he  reached  his  house  he  met  three  or 
four  men  and  women  on  horseback,  very  muddy 
indeed,  coming  down  the  drive.  Feeling  hungry 
himself,  he  asked  them  if  they  were  hungry.  They 
said  they  were,  and  he  bade  them  enter.  Jimmy 
took  their  horses,  who  seemed  to  know  him. 
Rhoda  took  their  battered  hats,  led  the  women 
upstairs  for  hairpins,  and  presently  fed  them  all 
with  tea-cakes,  poached  eggs,  anchovy  toast,  and 
drinks  from  a  coromandel-wood  liqueur  case  which 
Midmore  had  never  known  that  he  possessed. 

*  And  I  will  say,'  said  Miss  Connie  Sperrit,  her 


352     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

spurred  foot  on  the  fender  and  a  smoking  muffin 
in  her  whip  hand,  '  Rhoda  does  one  top-hole. 
She  always  did  since  I  was  eight.' 

'  Seven,  Miss,  was  when  you  began  to  'unt,' 
said  Rhoda,  setting  down  more  buttered  toast. 

'And  so,'  the  M.F.H.  was  saying  to  Midmore, 
'when  he  got  to  your  brute  Sidney's  land,  we 
had  to  whip  'em  off.  It's  a  regular  Alsatia  for 
'em.  They  know  it.  Why ' — he  dropped  his 
voice — '  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  against 
Sidney  as  your  tenant,  of  course,  but  I  do  believe 
the  old  scoundrel's  perfectly  capable  of  putting 
down  poison.' 

'Sidney's  capable  of  anything,'  said  Midmore 
with  immense  feeling  ;  but  once  again  he  held  his 
tongue.  They  were  a  queer  community  ;  yet 
when  they  had  stamped  and  jingled  out  to  their 
horses  again,  the  house  felt  hugely  big  and 
disconcerting. 

This  may  be  reckoned  the  conscious  beginning 
of  his  double  life.  It  ran  in  odd  channels  that 
summer — a  riding  school,  for  instance,  near  Hayes 
Common  and  a  shooting  ground  near  Wormwood 
Scrubs.  A  man  who  has  been  saddle-galled  or 
shoulder-bruised  for  half  the  day  is  not  at  his 
London  best  of  evenings  ;  and  when  the  bills  for 
his  amusements  come  in  he  curtails  his  expenses  in 
other  directions.  So  a  cloud  settled  on  Midmore's 
name.  His  London  world  talked  of  a  hardening 
of  heart  and  a  tightening  of  purse-strings  which 
signified  disloyalty  to  the  Cause.  One  man,  a 
confidant  of  the  old  expressive  days,  attacked  him 
robustiously  and  demanded   account  of  his  soul's 


<MY  SON'S  WIFE'  353 

progress.  It  was  not  furnished,  for  Midmore  was 
calculating  how  much  it  would  cost  to  repave 
stables  so  dilapidated  that  even  the  village  idiot 
apologised  for  putting  visitors'  horses  into  them. 
The  man  went  away,  and  served  up  what  he  had 
heard  of  the  pig-pound  episode  as  a  little  news- 
paper sketch,  calculated  to  annoy.  Midmore  read 
it  with  an  eye  as  practical  as  a  woman's,  and  since 
most  of  his  experiences  had  been  among  women, 
at  once  sought  out  a  woman  to  whom  he  might 
tell  his  sorrow  at  the  disloyalty  of  his  own  familiar 
friend.  She  was  so  sympathetic  that  he  went  on 
to  confide  how  his  bruised  heart — she  knew  all 
about  it — had  found  so-lace,  with  a  long  O,  in 
another  quarter  which  he  indicated  rather  care- 
fully in  case  it  might  be  betrayed  to  other  loyal 
friends.  As  his  hints  pointed  directly  towards 
facile  Hampstead,  and  as  his  urgent  business  was 
the  purchase  of  a  horse  from  a  dealer,  Beckenham 
way,  he  felt  he  had  done  good  work.  Later,  when 
his  friend,  the  scribe,  talked  to  him  alluringly  of 
'  secret  gardens '  and  those  so-laces  to  which  every 
man  who  follows  the  Wider  Morality  is  entitled, 
Midmore  lent  him  a  five-pound  note  which  he 
had  got  back  on  the  price  of  a  ninety-guinea  bay 
gelding.  So  true  it  is,  as  he  read  in  one  of  the 
late  Colonel  Werf's  books,  that  'the  young  man 
of  the  present  day  would  sooner  lie  under  an 
imputation  against  his  morals  than  against  his 
knowledge  of  horse-flesh.' 

Midmore  desired  more  than  he  desired  anything 
else  at  that  moment  to  ride  and,  above  all,  to  jump 
on  a  ninety-guinea  bay  gelding  with  black  points 

2  A 


354     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  a  slovenly  habit  of  hitting  his  fences.  He  did 
not  wish  many  people  except  Mr.  Sidney,  who 
very  kindly  lent  his  soft  meadow  behind  the  flood- 
gates, to  be  privy  to  the  matter,  which  he  rightly 
foresaw  would  take  him  to  the  autumn.  So  he  told 
such  friends  as  hinted  at  country  week-end  visits 
that  he  had  practically  let  his  newly  inherited  house. 
The  rent,  he  said,  was  an  object  to  him,  for  he 
had  lately  lost  large  sums  through  ill-considered 
benevolences.  He  would  name  no  names,  but  they 
could  guess.  And  they  guessed  loyally  all  round 
the  circle  of  his  acquaintance  as  they  spread  the 
news  that  explained  so  much. 

There  remained  only  one  couple  of  his  once 
intimate  associates  to  pacify.  They  were  deeply 
sympathetic  and  utterly  loyal,  of  course,  but  as 
curious  as  any  of  the  apes  whose  diet  they  had 
adopted.  Midmore  met  them  in  a  suburban  train, 
coming  up  to  town,  not  twenty  minutes  after  he 
had  come  ofF  two  hours'  advanced  tuition  (one 
guinea  an  hour)  over  hurdles  in  a  hall.  He  had, 
of  course,  changed  his  kit,  but  his  too  heavy 
bridle-hand  shook  a  little  among  the  newspapers. 
On  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  which  is  your 
natural  liar's  best  hold,  he  told  them  that  he  was 
condemned  to  a  rest-cure.  He  would  lie  in  semi- 
darkness  drinking  milk,  for  weeks  and  weeks,  cut 
off  even  from  letters.  He  was  astonished  and 
delighted  at  the  ease  with  which  the  usual  lie  con- 
founds the  unusual  intellect.  They  swallowed  it 
as  swiftly  as  they  recommended  him  to  live  on  nuts 
and  fruit;  but  he  saw  in  the  woman's  eyes  the  exact 
reason    she   would    set   forth   for    his   retirement. 


<MY  SON'S  WIFE'  355 

After  all,  she  had  as  much  right  to  express  herself 
as  he  purposed  to  take  for  himself  ;  and  Midmore 
believed  strongly  in  the  fullest  equality  of  the  sexes. 

That  retirement  made  one  small  ripple  in  the 
strenuous  world.  The  lady  who  had  written  the 
twelve-page  letter  ten  months  before  sent  him 
another  of  eight  pages,  analysing  all  the  motives 
that  were  leading  her  back  to  him — should  she 
come  ? — now  that  he  was  ill  and  alone.  Much 
might  yet  be  retrieved,  she  said,  out  of  the  waste 
of  jarring  lives  and  piteous  misunderstandings.  It 
needed  only  a  hand. 

But  Midmore  needed  two,  next  morning  very 
early,  for  a  devil's  diversion,  among  wet  coppices, 
called  '  cubbing.' 

1  You  haven't  a  bad  seat,'  said  Miss  Sperrit 
through  the  morning-mists.  '  But  you're  worry- 
ing him.' 

'  He  pulls  so,'  Midmore  grunted. 

*  Let  him  alone,  then.  Look  out  for  the 
branches,'  she  shouted,  as  they  whirled  up  a  splashy 
ride.  Cubs  were  plentiful.  Most  of  the  hounds 
attached  themselves  to  a  straight-necked  youngster 
of  education  who  scuttled  out  of  the  woods  into  the 
open  fields  below. 

*  Hold  on  ! '  some  one  shouted.  c  Turn  'em, 
Midmore.  That's  your  brute  Sidney's  land.  It's 
all  wire.' 

*  Oh,  Connie,  stop  ! '  Mrs.  Sperrit  shrieked  as 
her  daughter  charged  at  a  boundary-hedge. 

1  Wire  be  damned  !  I  had  it  all  out  a  fortnight 
ago.  Come  on  !  '  This  was  Midmore,  buffeting 
into  it  a  little  lower  down. 


3$6     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  /  knew  that !  '  Connie  cried  over  her  shoulder, 
and  she  flitted  across  the  open  pasture,  humming 
to  herself. 

'Oh,  of  course!  If  some  people  have  private 
information,  they  can  afford  to  thrust.'  This  was 
a  snuff-coloured  habit  into  which  Miss  Sperrit  had 
cannoned  down  the  ride. 

1  What !  'Midmore  got  Sidney  to  heel  ?  You 
never  did  that,  Sperrit.'  This  was  Mr.  Fisher, 
M.F.H.,  enlarging  the  breach  Midmore  had  made. 

1  No,  confound  him  !  '  said  the  father  testily. 
'Go  on,  sir!  Injecto  ter pulvere — you've  kicked 
half  the  ditch  into  my  eye  already.' 

They  killed  that  cub  a  little  short  of  the  haven 
his  mother  had  told  him  to  make  for — a  two-acre 
Alsatia  of  a  gorse-patch  to  which  the  M.F.H.  had 
been  denied  access  for  the  last  fifteen  seasons.  He 
expressed  his  gratitude  before  all  the  field  and  Mr. 
Sidney,  at  Mr.  Sidney's  farmhouse  door. 

'  And  if  there  should  be  any  poultry  claims ' 

he  went  on. 

'  There  won't  be,'  said  Midmore.  '  It's  too 
like  cheating  a  sucking  child,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Sidney  ? ' 

'  You've  got  me  ! '  was  all  the  reply.  '  I  be 
used  to  bein'  put  upon,  but  you've  got  me,  Mus' 
Midmore.' 

Midmore  pointed  to  a  new  brick  pig-pound 
built  in  strict  disregard  of  the  terms  of  the  life- 
tenant's  lease.  The  gesture  told  the  tale  to  the 
few  who  did  not  know,  and  they  shouted. 

Such  pagan  delights  as  these  were  followed  by 
pagan  sloth  of  evenings  when  men  and  women 
elsewhere  are   at   their   brightest.     But  Midmore 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  357 

preferred  to  lie  out  on  a  yellow  silk  couch,  reading 
works  of  a  debasing  vulgarity  ;  or,  by  invitation, 
to  dine  with  the  Sperrits  and  savages  of  their 
kidney.  These  did  not  expect  flights  of  fancy 
or  phrasing.  They  lied,  except  about  horses, 
grudgingly  and  of  necessity,  not  for  art's  sake  ; 
and,  men  and  women  alike,  they  expressed  them- 
selves along  their  chosen  lines  with  the  serene  in- 
difference of  the  larger  animals.  Then  Midmore 
would  go  home  and  identify  them,  one  by  one, 
out  of  the  natural-history  books  by  Mr.  Surtees, 
on  the  table  beside  the  sofa.  At  first  they  looked 
upon  him  coolly,  but  when  the  tale  of  the  removed 
wire  and  the  recaptured  gorse  had  gone  the 
rounds,  they  accepted  him  for  a  person  willing  to 
play  their  games.  True,  a  faction  suspended 
judgment  for  a  while,  because  they  shot,  and 
hoped  that  Midmore  would  serve  the  glorious 
mammon  of  pheasant-raising  rather  than  the  un- 
kempt god  of  fox-hunting.  But  after  he  had 
shown  his  choice,  they  did  not  ask  by  what 
intellectual  process  he  had  arrived  at  it.  He 
hunted  three,  sometimes  four,  times  a  week,  which 
necessitated  not  only  one  bay  gelding  (^94  :  10s.), 
but  a  mannerly  white-stockinged  chestnut  (^114), 
and  a  black  mare,  rather  long  in  the  back  but 
with  a  mouth  of  silk  (^150),  who  so  evidently 
preferred  to  carry  a  lady  that  it  would  have  been 
cruel  to  have  baulked  her.  Besides,  with  that 
handling  she  could  be  sold  at  a  profit.  And 
besides,  the  hunt  was  a  quiet,  intimate,  kindly 
little  hunt,  not  anxious  for  strangers,  of  good 
report  in  the  Field,  the  servant  of  one  M.F.H., 


358     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

given  to  hospitality,  riding  well  its  own  horses, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  Midmore,  not  novices. 
But  as  Miss  Sperrit  observed,  after  the  M.F.H. 
had  said  some  things  to  him  at  a  gate  :  '  It  is 
a  pity  you  don't  know  as  much  as  your  horse, 
but  you  will  in  time.  It  takes  years  and  yee-ars. 
I've  been  at  it  for  fifteen  and  I'm  only  just  learn- 
ing.    But  you've  made  a  decent  kick-off.' 

So  he  kicked  off  in  wind  and  wet  and  mud, 
wondering  quite  sincerely  why  the  bubbling 
ditches  and  sucking  pastures  held  him  from  day 
to  day,  or  what  so-lace  he  could  find  on  off  days  in 
chasing  grooms  and  bricklayers  round  outhouses. 

To  make  sure  he  up-rooted  himself  one  week- 
end of  heavy  mid-winter  rain,  and  re-entered  his 
lost  world  in  the  character  of  Galahad  fresh  from  a 
rest-cure.  They  all  agreed,  with  an  eye  over  his 
shoulder  for  the  next  comer,  that  he  was  a  different 
man  ;  but  when  they  asked  him  for  the  symptoms 
of  nervous  strain,  and  led  him  all  through  their 
own,  he  realised  he  had  lost  much  of  his  old  skill 
in  lying.  His  three  months'  absence,  too,  had 
put  him  hopelessly  behind  the  London  field. 
The  movements,  the  allusions,  the  slang  of  the 
game  had  changed.  The  couples  had  rearranged 
themselves  or  were  re-crystallizing  in  fresh  triangles, 
whereby  he  put  his  foot  in  it  badly.  Only  one 
great'  soul  (he  who  had  written  the  account  of  the 
pig-pound  episode)  stood  untouched  by  the  vast 
flux  of  time,  and  Midmore  lent  him  another  fiver 
for  his  integrity.  A  woman  took  him,  in  the  wet 
forenoon,  to  a  pronouncement  on  the  Oneness  of 
Impulse    in    Humanity,   which    struck    him   as   a 


<MY  SON'S  WIFE'  359 

polysyllabic  resume  of  Mr.  Sidney's  domestic 
arrangements,  plus  a  clarion  call  to  '  shock,  civilisa- 
tion into  common-sense.' 

*  And  you'll  come  to  tea  with  me  to-morrow  ?  ' 
she  asked,  after  lunch,  nibbling  cashew  nuts  from 
a  saucer.  Midmore  replied  that  there  were  great 
arrears  of  work  to  overtake  when  a  man  had  been 
put  away  for  so  long. 

*  But  you've  come  back  like  a  giant  refreshed. 
...  I  hope  that  Daphne ' — this  was  the  lady  of 
the  twelve  and  the  eight-page  letter — •  will  be  with 
us  too.  She  has  misunderstood  herself,  like  so 
many  of  us,'  the  woman  murmured,  '  but  I  think 
eventually  .  .  .'  she  flung  out  her  thin  little 
hands.  '  However,  these  are  things  that  each 
lonely  soul  must  adjust  for  itself.' 

1  Indeed,  yes,'  said  Midmore  with  a  deep  sigh. 
The  old  tricks  were  sprouting  in  the  old  atmo- 
sphere like  mushrooms  in  a  dung-pit.  He  passed 
into  an  abrupt  reverie,  shook  his  head,  as  though 
stung  by  tumultuous  memories,  and  departed 
without  any  ceremony  of  farewell  to — catch  a  mid- 
afternoon  express  where  a  man  meets  associates 
who  talk  horse,  and  weather  as  it  affects  the  horse, 
all  the  way  down.  What  worried  him  most  was 
that  he  had  missed  a  day  with  the  hounds. 

He  met  Rhoda's  keen  old  eyes  without 
flinching  ;  and  the  drawing-room  looked  very 
comfortable  that  wet  evening  at  tea.  After 
all,  his  visit  to  town  had  not  been  wholly  a 
failure.  He  had  burned  quite  a  bushel  of  letters 
at  his  flat.  A  flat — here  he  reached  mechanically 
toward  the  worn    volumes   near   the  sofa — a  flat 


360     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

was  a  consuming  animal.  As  for  Daphne  .  .  . 
he  opened  at  random  on  the  words  :  '  His  lord- 
ship then  did  as  desired  and  disclosed  a  tableau 
of  considerable  strength  and  variety/  Midmore 
reflected :  '  And  I  used  to  think  .  .  .  But  she 
wasn't  .  .  .  We  were  all  babblers  and  skirters 
together  ...  I  didn't  babble  much — thank 
goodness — but  I  skirted.'  He  turned  the  pages 
backward  for  more  Sortes  Surteesianae,  and  read  : 
'  When  at  length  they  rose  to  go  to  bed  it  struck 
each  man  as  he  followed  his  neighbour  upstairs, 
that  the  man  before  him  walked  very  crookedly.' 
He  laughed  aloud  at  the  fire. 

c  What  about  to-morrow  ?  '  Rhoda  asked,  enter- 
ing with  garments  over  her  shoulder.  '  It's  never 
stopped  raining  since  you  left.  You'll  be  plastered 
out  of  sight  an'  all  in  five  minutes.  You'd  better 
wear  your  next  best,  'adn't  you?  I'm  afraid 
they've  shrank.      'Adn't  you  best  try  'em  on  ? ' 

*  Here  ? '  said  Midmore. 

*  'Suit  yourself.  I  bathed  you  when  you  wasn't 
larger  than  a  leg  o'  lamb,'  said  the  ex-ladies'- 
maid. 

1  Rhoda,  one  of  these  days  I  shall  get  a  valet, 
and  a  married  butler.' 

'  There's  many  a  true  word  spoke  in  jest. 
But  nobody's  huntin'  to-morrow.' 

c  Why  ?     Have  they  cancelled  the  meet  ? ' 

1  They  say  it  only  means  slipping  and  over- 
reaching in  the  mud,  and  they  all  'ad  enough  of 
that  to-day.     Charlie  told  me  so  just  now.' 

*  Oh  ! '  It  seemed  that  the  word  of  Mr. 
Sperrit's  confidential  clerk  had  weight. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  361 

'  Charlie  came  down  to  help  Mr.  Sidney  lift 
the  gates,'  Rhoda  continued. 

'  The  flood-gates  ?  They  are  perfectly  easy 
to  handle  now.      I've  put  in  a  wheel  and  a  winch.' 

'  When  the  brook's  really  up  they  must  be 
took  clean  out  on  account  of  the  rubbish  blockin' 
'em.     That's  why  Charlie  came  down.' 

Midmore  grunted  impatiently.  '  Everybody 
has  talked  to  me  about  that  brook  ever  since 
I  came  here.     It's  never  done  anything  yet.' 

*  This  'as  been  a  dry  summer.  If  you  care 
to  look  now,  sir,  I'll  get  you  a  lantern.' 

She  paddled  out  with  him  into  a  large  wet 
night.  Half-way  down  the  lawn  her  light  was 
reflected  on  shallow  brown  water,  pricked  through 
with  grass  blades  at  the  edges.  Beyond  that  light, 
the  brook  was  strangling  and  kicking  among 
hedges  and  tree-trunks. 

'  What  on  earth  will  happen  to  the  big  rose- 
bed  ? '  was  Midmore's  first  word. 

'  It  generally  'as  to  be  restocked  after  a  flood. 
Ah  ! '  she  raised  her  lantern.  '  There's  two 
garden-seats  knockin'  against  the  sun-dial.  Now, 
that  won't  do  the  roses  any  good.' 

*  This  is  too  absurd.  There  ought  to  be 
some  decently  thought  -  out  system  —  for  —  for 
dealing  with  this  sort  of  thing.'  He  peered  into 
the  rushing  gloom.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
end  to  the  moisture  and  the  racket.  In  town 
he  had  noticed  nothing. 

'  It  can't  be  'elped,'  said  Rhoda.  '  It's  just 
what  it  does  do  once  in  just  so  often.  We'd 
better  go  back.' 


362     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

All  earth  under  foot  was  sliding  in  a  thousand 
liquid  noises  towards  the  hoarse  brook.  Some- 
body wailed  from  the  house  :  '  'Fraid  o'  the  water  ! 
Come  'ere  !      'Fraid  o'  the  water  !  ' 

'  That's  Jimmy.  Wet  always  takes  'im  that 
way,'  she  explained.  The  idiot  charged  into  them, 
shaking  with  terror. 

'  Brave  Jimmy  !  How  brave  of  Jimmy  !  Come 
into  the  hall.  What  Jimmy  got  now  ? '  she 
crooned.  It  was  a  sodden  note  which  ran : 
*  Dear  Rhoda — Mr.  Lotten,  with  whom  I  rode 
home  this  afternoon,  told  me  that  if  this  wet 
keeps  up,  he's  afraid  the  fish-pond  he  built  last 
year,  where  Coxen's  old  mill  -  dam  was,  will  go, 
as  the  dam  did  once  before,  he  says.  If  it 
does  it's  bound  to  come  down  the  brook.  It 
may  be  all  right,  but  perhaps  you  had  better 
look  out.     C.  S.' 

4  If  Coxen's  dam  goes,  that  means  .  .  .  I'll 
'ave  the  drawing-room  carpet  up  at  once  to  be  on 
the  safe  side.     The  claw-'ammer  is  in  the  libery.' 

'  Wait  a  minute.  Sidney's  gates  are  out,  you 
said  ? ' 

'  Both.  He'll  need  it  if  Coxen's  pond  goes.  .  .  . 
I've  seen  it  once.' 

'  I'll  just  slip  down  and  have  a  look  at  Sidney. 
Light  the  lantern  again,  please,  Rhoda.' 

'  You  won't  get  him  to  stir.  He's  been  there 
since  he  was  born.  But  she  don't  know  anything. 
I'll  fetch  your  waterproof  and  some  top-boots.' 

*  'Fraid-  o'  the  water  !  'Fraid  o'  the  water  ! ' 
Jimmy  sobbed,  pressed  against  a  corner  of  the 
hall,  his  hands  to  his  eyes. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  363 

'  All  right,  Jimmy.  Jimmy  can  help  play  with 
the  carpet,'  Rhoda  answered,  as  Midmore  went 
forth  into  the  darkness  and  the  roarings  all  round. 
He  had  never  seen  such  an  utterly  unregulated 
state  of  affairs.  There  was  another  lantern  re- 
flected on  the  streaming  drive. 

'  Hi  !  Rhoda  !  Did  you  get  my  note  ?  I  came 
down  to  make  sure.  I  thought,  afterwards, 
Jimmy  might  funk  the  water  !  ' 

1  It's  me — Miss  Sperrit,'  Midmore  cried.  '  Yes, 
we  got  it,  thanks.' 

'You're  back,  then.  Oh,  good  !  ...  Is  it  bad 
down  with  you  ?  ' 

'  I'm  going  to  Sidney's  to  have  a  look.' 

1  You  won't  get  him  out.  'Lucky  I  met  Bob 
Lotten.  I  told  him  he  hadn't  any  business  im- 
pounding water  for  his  idiotic  trout  without  re- 
building the  dam.' 

'  How  far  up  is  it  ?  I've  only  been  there 
once.' 

'  Not  more  than  four  miles  as  the  water  will 
come.     He  says  he's  opened  all  the  sluices.' 

She  had  turned  and  fallen  into  step  beside  him, 
her  hooded  head  bowed  against  the  thinning  rain. 
As  usual  she  was  humming  to  herself. 

'Why  on  earth  did  you  come  out  in  this 
weather  ? '  Midmore  asked. 

*  It  was  worse  when  you  were  in  town.  The 
rain's  taking  off*  now.  If  it  wasn't  for  that  pond, 
I  wouldn't  worry  so  much.  There's  Sidney's  bell. 
Come  on  ! '  She  broke  into  a  run.  A  cracked 
bell  was  jangling  feebly  down  the  valley. 

'  Keep  on  the  road  ! '   Midmore  shouted.     The 


364     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

ditches  were  snorting  bank-full  on  either  side,  and 
towards  the  brook-side  the  fields  were  afloat  and 
beginning  to  move  in  the  darkness. 

'  Catch  me  going  off  it !  There's  his  light 
burning  all  right.'  She  halted  undistressed  at  a 
little  rise.  '  But  the  flood's  in  the  orchard. 
Look  ! '  She  swung  her  lantern  to  show  a  front 
rank  of  old  apple-trees  reflected  in  still,  out-lying 
waters  beyond  the  half-drowned  hedge.  They 
could  hear  above  the  thud-thud  of  the  gorged 
flood-gates,  shrieks  in  two  keys  as  monotonous  as 
a  steam-organ. 

*  The  high  one's  the  pig-'  Miss  Sperrit 
laughed. 

'AH  right  !  I'll  get  her  out.  You  stay  where 
you  are,  and  I'll  see  you  home  afterwards.' 

'But  the  water's  only  just  over  the  road,'  she 
objected. 

'  Never  mind.     Don't  you  move.      Promise  ? ' 

'  All  right.  You  take  my  stick,  then,  and  feel 
for  holes  in  case  anything's  washed  out  anywhere. 
This  is  a  lark  ! ' 

Midmore  took  it,  and  stepped  into  the  water 
that  moved  sluggishly  as  yet  across  the  farm  road 
which  ran  to  Sidney's  front  door  from  the  raised 
and  metalled  public  road.  It  was  half  way  up  to 
his  knees  when  he  knocked.  As  he  looked  back 
Miss  Sperrit's  lantern  seemed  to  float  in  mid- 
ocean. 

'  You  can't  come  in  or  the  water  '11  come  with 
you.  I've  -bunged  up  all  the  cracks,'  Mr.  Sidney 
shouted  from  within.     '  Who  be  ye  ? ' 

'  Take  me  out !     Take  me  out !  '   the  woman 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  365 

shrieked,  and  the  pig  from  his  sty  behind  the  house 
urgently  seconded  the  motion. 

'  I'm  Midmore  !  Coxen's  old  mill-dam  is  likely 
to  go,  they  say.      Come  out ! ' 

f  I  told  'em  it  would  when  they  made  a  fish- 
pond of  it.  'Twasn't  ever  puddled  proper.  But 
it's  a  middlin'  wide  valley.  She's  got  room  to 
spread.  .  .  .  Keep  still,  or  I'll  take  and  duck  you 
in  the  cellar  !  .  .  .  You  go  'ome,  Mus'  Midmore, 
an'  take  the  law  o'  Mus'  Lotten  soon's  you've 
changed  your  socks.' 

1  Confound  you,  aren't  you  coming  out  ? ' 

'  To  catch  my  death  o'  cold  ?  I'm  all  right 
where  I  be.  I've  seen  it  before.  But  you  can 
take  her.  She's  no  sort  o'  use  or  sense.  .  .  .  Climb 
out  through  the  window.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd 
plugged  the  door -cracks,  you  fool's  daughter  ?  ' 
The  parlour  window  opened,  and  the  woman  flung 
herself  into  Midmore's  arms,  nearly  knocking  him 
down.  Mr.  Sidney  leaned  out  of  the  window, 
pipe  in  mouth. 

*  Take  her  'ome,'  he  said,  and  added  oracularly  : 

Two  women  in  one  house, 
Two  cats  an'    one  mouse, 
Two  dogs  an'  one  bone — 
Which  I  will  leave  alone. 

I've  seen  it  before.'  Then  he  shut  and  fastened 
the  window. 

'  A  trap  !  A  trap  !  You  had  ought  to  have 
brought  a  trap  for  me.  I'll  be  drowned  in  this 
wet,'  the  woman  cried. 

'  Hold  up  !     You  can't  be  any  wetter  than  you 


366     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

are.  Come  along  !  '  Midmore  did  not  at  all  like 
the  feel  of  the  water  over  his  boot-tops. 

1  Hooray  !  Come  along  !  '  Miss  Sperrit's 
lantern,  not  fifty  yards  away,  waved  cheerily. 

The  woman  threshed  towards  it  like  a  panic- 
stricken  goose,  fell  on  her  knees,  was  jerked  up 
again  by  Midmore,  and  pushed  on  till  she  collapsed 
at  Miss  Sperrit's  feet. 

'  But  you  won't  get  bronchitis  if  you  go  straight 
to  Mr.  Midmore's  house,'  said  the  unsympathetic 
maiden. 

*  O  Gawd  !  O  Gawd  !  I  wish  our  'eavenly 
Father  'ud  forgive  me  my  sins  an'  call  me  'ome,' 
the  woman  sobbed.     '  But  I  won't  go  to  'is  'ouse  ! 

won  t. 

'All  right,  then.  Stay  here.  Now,  if  we 
run,'  Miss  Sperrit  whispered  to  Midmore,  '  she'll 
follow  us.     Not  too  fast  ! ' 

They  set  off  at  a  considerate  trot,  and  the 
woman  lumbered  behind  them,  bellowing,  till  they 
met  a  third  lantern — Rhoda  holding  Jimmy's  hand. 
She  had  got  the  carpet  up,  she  said,  and  was 
escorting  Jimmy  past  the  water  that  he  dreaded. 

'  That's  all  right,'  Miss  Sperrit  pronounced. 
*  Take  Mrs.  Sidney  back  with  you,  Rhoda,  and 
put  her  to  bed.  I'll  take  Jimmy  with  me.  You 
aren't  afraid  of  the  water  now,  are  you,  Jimmy  ? ' 

'  Not  afraid  of  anything  now.'  Jimmy  reached 
for  her  hand.  'But  get  away  from  the  water 
quick.' 

'  I'm  coming  with  you,'  Midmore  interrupted. 

*  You  most  certainly  are  not.  You're  drenched, 
She   threw    you   twice.       Go    home    and    change. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  367 

You  may  have  to  be  out  again  all  night.  It's 
only  half- past  seven  now.  I'm  perfectly  safe.' 
She  flung  herself  lightly  over  a  stile,  and  hurried 
uphill  by  the  footpath,  out  of  reach  of  all  but  the 
boasts  of  the  flood  below. 

Rhoda,  dead  silent,  herded  Mrs.  Sidney  to  the 
house. 

'You'll  find  your  things  laid  out  on  the  bed,' 
she  said  to  Midmore  as  he  came  up.  '  I'll  attend 
to — to  this.      Shes  got  nothing  to  cry  for.' 

Midmore  raced  into  dry  kit,  and  raced  uphill 
to  be  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  the  lantern  just 
turning  into  the  Sperrits'  gate.  He  came  back  by 
way  of  Sidney's  farm,  where  he  saw  the  light 
twinkling  across  three  acres  of  shining  water,  for 
the  rain  had  ceased  and  the  clouds  were  stripping 
overhead,  though  the  brook  was  noisier  than  ever. 
Now  there  was  only  that  doubtful  mill-pond  to 
look  after — that  and  his  swirling  world  abandoned 
to  himself  alone. 

1  We  shall  have  to  sit  up  for  it,'  said  Rhoda 
after  dinner.  And  as  the  drawing-room  com- 
manded the  best  view  of  the  rising  flood,  they 
watched  it  from  there  for  a  long  time,  while  all 
the  clocks  of  the  house  bore  them  company. 

'  'Tisn't  the  water,  it's  the  mud  on  the  skirting- 
board  after  it  goes  down  that  I  mind,'  Rhoda 
whispered.  '  The  last  time  Coxen's  mill  broke,  I 
remember  it  came  up  to  the  second — no,  third — 
step  o'  Mr.  Sidney's  stairs.' 

4  What  did  Sidney  do  about  it  ? ' 

4  He  made  a  notch  on  the  step.  'E  said  it  was 
a  record.     Just  like  'im.' 


368     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  It's  up  to  the  drive  now,'  said  Midmore  after 
another  long  wait.  '  And  the  rain  stopped  before 
eight,  you  know.' 

*  Then  Coxen's  dam  'as  broke,  and  that's  the 
first  of  the  flood-water.'  She  stared  out  beside 
him.  The  water  was  rising  in  sudden  pulses — an 
inch  or  two  at  a  time,  with  great  sweeps  and 
lagoons  and  a  sudden  increase  of  the  brook's 
proper  thunder. 

'  You  can't  stand  all  the  time.  Take  a  chair,' 
Midmore  said  presently. 

Rhoda  looked  back  into  the  bare  room.  '  The 
carpet  bein'  up  does  make  a  difference.  Thank 
you,  sir,  I  will  'ave  a  set-down.' 

'  'Right  over  the  drive  now/  said  Midmore. 
He  opened  the  window  and  leaned  out.  '  Is  that 
wind  up  the  valley,  Rhoda?' 

'  No,  that's  /'/ !     But  I've  seen  it  before.' 

There  was  not  so  much  a  roar  as  the  pur- 
poseful drive  of  a  tide  across  a  jagged  reef, 
which  put  down  every  other  sound  for  twenty 
minutes.  A  wide  sheet  of  water  hurried  up  to 
the  little  terrace  on  which  the  house  stood,  pushed 
round  either  corner,  rose  again  and  stretched,  as 
it  were,  yawning  beneath  the  moonlight,  joined 
other  sheets  waiting  for  them  in  unsuspected 
hollows,  and  lay  out  all  in  one.  A  puff  of  wind 
followed. 

'  It's  right  up  to  the  wall  now.  I  can  touch 
it  with  my  finger.'  Midmore  bent  over  the 
window-sill. 

'  I  can  'ear  it  in  the  cellars,'  said  Rhoda  dole- 
fully.    '  Well,  we've  done  what  we  can  !     I  think 


<  MY  SON'S  WIFE  '  369 

I'll  'ave  a  look.'  She  left  the  room  and  was 
absent  half  an  hour  or  more,  during  which  time 
he  saw  a  full-grown  tree  hauling  itself  across  the 
lawn  by  its  naked  roots.  Then  a  hurdle  knocked 
against  the  wall,  caught  on  an  iron  foot-scraper 
just  outside,  and  made  a  square- headed  ripple. 
The  cascade  through  the  cellar-windows  diminished. 

'  It's  dropping,'  Rhoda  cried,  as  she  returned. 
'  It's  only  tricklin'  into  my  cellars  now.' 

'  Wait  a  minute.  I  believe — I  believe  I  can  see 
the  scraper  on  the  edge  of  the  drive  just  showing  ! ' 

In  another  ten  minutes  the  drive  itself  rough- 
ened and  became  gravel  again,  tilting  all  its  water 
towards  the  shrubbery. 

'  The  pond's  gone  past,'  Rhoda  announced. 
'  We  shall  only  'ave  the  common  flood  to  contend 
with  now.     You'd  better  go  to  bed.' 

'  I  ought  to  go  down  and  have  another  look  at 
Sidney  before  daylight.' 

'  No  need.  You  can  see  'is  light  burnin'  from 
all  the  upstairs  windows.' 

'  By  the  way.  I  forgot  about  her.  Where've 
you  put  her  ? ' 

'  In  my  bed.'  Rhoda's  tone  was  ice.  ' 1 
wasn't  going  to  undo  a  room  for  that  stuff.' 

*  But  it — it  couldn't  be  helped,'  said  Midmore. 
'  She  was  half  drowned.  One  mustn't  be  narrow- 
minded,  Rhoda,  even  if  her  position  isn't  quite — 
er — regular.' 

'  Pfff !  I  wasn't  worryin'  about  that.'  She 
leaned  forward  to  the  window.  v  There's  the 
edge  of  the  lawn  showin'  now.  It  falls  as  fast 
as   it  rises.      Dearie' — the   change   of  tone  made 

2  B 


370     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Midmore  jump — 'didn't  you  know  that  I  was  'is 
first  ?  That's  what  makes  it  so  hard  to  bear.' 
Midmore  looked  at  the  long  lizard-like  back  and 
had  no  words. 

She  went  on,  still  talking  through  the  black 
window-pane : 

'  Your  pore  dear  auntie  was  very  kind  about 
it.  She  said  she'd  make  all  allowances  for  one, 
but  no  more.  Never  any  more.  .  .  .  Then,  you 
didn't  know  'oo  Charlie  was  all  this  time  ? ' 

1  Your  nephew,  I  always  thought.' 

'  Well,  well,'  she  spoke  pityingly.  '  Every- 
body's business  being  nobody's  business,  I  suppose 
no  one  thought  to  tell  you.  But  Charlie  made 
'is  own  way  for  'imself  from  the  beginnin'  !  .  ,  . 
But  her  upstairs,  she  never  produced  anything. 
Just  an  'ousekeeper,  as  you  might  say.  'Turned 
over  an'  went  to  sleep  straight  off.  She  'ad  the 
impudence  to  ask  me  for  'ot  sherry-gruel.' 

'  Did  you  give  it  to  her,'  said  Midmore. 

<  Me  ?     Your  sherry  ?     No  ! ' 

The  memory  of  Sidney's  outrageous  rhyme  at 
the  window,  and  Charlie's  long  nose  (he  thought 
it  looked  interested  at  the  time)  as  he  passed  the 
copies  of  Mrs.  WerPs  last  four  wills,  overcame 
Midmore  without  warning. 

'  This  damp  is  givin'  you  a  cold,'  said  Rhoda, 
rising.  '  There  you  go  again  !  Sneezin's  a  sure 
sign  of  it.  Better  go  to  bed.  You  can't  do 
anythin'  excep' ' — she  stood  rigid,  with  crossed 
arms — *  about  me.' 

'  Well.  What  about  you  ? '  Midmore  stuffed 
the  handkerchief  into  his  pocket. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  371 

'  Now  you  know  about  it,  what  are  you  goin' 
to  do — sir  ? ' 

She  had  the  answer  on  her  lean  cheek  before 
the  sentence  was  finished. 

'  Go  and  see  if  you  can  get  us  something  to  eat, 
Rhoda.      And  beer.' 

4 1  expec'  the  larder  '11  be  in  a  swim,'  she  replied, 
'  but  old  bottled  stuff  don't  take  any  harm  from 
wet.'  She  returned  with  a  tray,  all  in  order,  and 
they  ate  and  drank  together,  and  took  observations 
of  the  falling  flood  till  dawn  opened  its  bleared 
eyes  on  the  wreck  of  what  had  been  a  fair  garden. 
Mid  more,  cold  and  annoyed,  found  himself 
humming  : 

'  That  flood  strewed  wrecks  upon  the  grass, 
That  ebb  swept  out  the  flocks  to  sea. 

There  isn't  a  rose  left,  Rhoda  ! 

An  awesome  ebb  and  flow  it  was 
To  many  more  than  mine  and  me. 
But  each  will  mourn  his  .  .   . 

It'll  cost  me  a  hundred.' 

'  Now  we  know  the  worst,'  said  Rhoda,  '  we 
can  go  to  bed.  I'll  lay  on  the  kitchen  sofa.  His 
light's  burnin'  still.' 

« And  she  ?  ' 

*  Dirty  old  cat  !     You  ought  to  'ear  'er  snore  ! ' 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  a  maddening 
hour  in  his  own  garden  on  the  edge  of  the  retreating 
brook,  Midmore  went  off*  to  confront  more  damage 
at  Sidney's.  The  first  thing  that  met  him  was 
the  pig,  snowy  white,  for  the  water  had  washed 
him  out   of  his  new  sty,  calling  on  high  heaven 


372     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

for  breakfast.  The  front  door  had  been  forced 
open,  and  the  flood  had  registered  its  own  height 
in  a  brown  dado  on  the  walls.  Midmore  chased 
the  pig  out  and  called  up  the  stairs. 

'  I  be  abed  o'  course.  Which  step  'as  she 
rose  to  ?  '  Sidney  cried  from  above.  '  The  fourth  ? 
Then  it's  beat  all  records.      Come  up.' 

'  Are  you  ill  ? '  Midmore  asked  as  he  entered 
the  room.  The  red  eyelids  blinked  cheerfully. 
Mr.  Sidney,  beneath  a  sumptuous  patch-work 
quilt,  was  smoking. 

'  Nah  1  I'm  only  thankin'  God  I  ain't  my  own 
landlord.     Take  that  cheer.     What's  she  done  ? ' 

'  It  hasn't  gone  down  enough  for  me  to  make 
sure.' 

'  Them  floodgates  o'  yourn  '11  be  middlin'  far 
down  the  brook  by  now  ;  an'  your  rose-garden 
have  gone  after  'em.  I  saved  my  chickens,  though. 
You'd  better  get  Mus'  Sperrit  to  take  the  law  o' 
Lotten  an'  'is  fish-pond.' 

'  No,  thanks.    I've  trouble  enough  without  that.' 

'  Hev  ye  ? '  Mr.  Sidney  grinned.  '  How  did 
ye  make  out  with  those  two  women  o'  mine  last 
night  ?     I  lay  they  fought.' 

'You  infernal  old  scoundrel !'  Midmore  laughed. 

'  I  be — an'  then  again  I  bain't,'  was  the  placid 
answer.  '  But,  Rhoda,  she  wouldn't  ha'  left  me  last 
night.      Fire  or  flood,  she  wouldn't.' 

'  Why  didn't  you  ever  marry  her  ?  '  Midmore 
asked. 

4  Waste  of  good  money.  She  was  willin' 
without.' 

There  was   a  step  on   the  gritty  mud  below, 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  373 

and  a  voice  humming.  Midmore  rose  quickly 
saying  :   '  Well,  I  suppose  you're  all  right  now.' 

'  I  be.  I  ain't  a  landlord,  nor  I  ain't  young — 
nor  anxious.  Oh,  Mus'  Midmore !  Would  it 
make  any  odds  about  her  thirty  pounds  comin' 
regular  if  I  married  her  ?  Charlie  said  maybe 
'twould.' 

'  Did  he  ?  '  Midmore  turned  at  the  door. 
'  And  what  did  Jimmy  say  about  it  ? ' 

'  Jimmy  ? '  Mr.  Sidney  chuckled  as  the  joke 
took  him.  '  Oh,  hes  none  o'  mine.  He's  Charlie's 
look-out.' 

Midmore  slammed  the  door  and  ran  downstairs. 

'Well,  this  is  a  —  sweet  —  mess,5  said  Miss 
Sperrit  in  shortest  skirts  and  heaviest  riding-boots. 
'  I  had  to  come  down  and  have  a  look  at  it.  "  The 
old  mayor  climbed  the  beifry  tower."  'Been  up 
all  night  nursing  your  family  ? ' 

'  Nearly  that !  Isn't  it  cheerful  ? '  He  pointed 
through  the  door  to  the  stairs  with  small  twig- 
drift  on  the  last  three  treads. 

'  It's  a  record,  though,'  said  she,  and  hummed 
to  herself : 

'  That  flood  strewed  wrecks  upon  the  grass, 
That  ebb  swept  out  the  flocks  to  sea.' 

'You're  always  singing  that,  aren't  you?' 
Midmore  said  suddenly  as  she  passed  into  the 
parlour  where  slimy  chairs  had  been  stranded  at 
all  angles. 

'  Am  I  ?  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  believe 
I  doo  They  say  I  always  hum  when  I  ride. 
Have  you  noticed  it  ? ' 


374     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 
Of  course  I  have.      I  notice  every- 


*  Oh,'  she  went  on  hurriedly.  '  We  had  it 
for  the  village  cantata  last  winter — "  The  Brides 
of  Enderby."  ' 

'  No  !  "  High  Tide  on  the  Coast  of  Lincoln- 
shire."      For  some  reason  Midmore  spoke  sharply. 

'Just  like  that.'  She  pointed  to  the  befouled 
walls.  *  I  say.  .  .  .  Let's  get  this  furniture  a 
little  straight.   .   .   .  You  know  it  too  ?  ' 

'  Every  word,  since  you  sang  it,  of  course.* 

'  When  ? ' 

1  The  first  night  I  ever  came  down.  You  rode 
past  the  drawing-room  window  in  the  dark  singing 
it — "  And  sweeter  woman 

'  I  thought  the  house  was  empty  then.  Your 
aunt  always  let  us  use  that  short  cut.  Ha-hadn't 
we  better  get  this  out  into  the  passage  ?  It'll  all 
have  to  come  out  anyhow.  You  take  the  other 
side.'  They  began  to  lift  a  heavyish  table.  Their 
words  came  jerkily  between  gasps  and  their  faces 
were  as  white  as — a  newly  washed  and  very  hungry 

'  Look  out  ! '  Midmore  shouted.  His  legs 
were  whirled  from  under  him,  as  the  table,  grunt- 
ing madly,  careened  and  knocked  the  girl  out  of 
sight. 

The  wild  boar  of  Asia  could  not  have  cut  down 
a  couple  more  scientifically,  but  this  little  pig 
lacked  his  ancestor's  nerve  and  fled  shrieking 
over  their  bodies. 

1  Are  you  hurt,  darling  ? '  was  Midmore's  first 
word,  and  '  No — I'm  only  winded — dear,'  was 
Miss  Sperrit's,  as  he  lifted  her  out  of  her  corner, 


«MY  SON'S  WIFE'  375 

her  hat  over  one  eye  and  her  right  cheek  a  smear 
of  mud. 

***** 
They  fed  him  a  little  later  on  some  chicken- 
feed  that  they  found  in  Sidney's  quiet  barn,  a  pail 
of  buttermilk  out  of  the  dairy,  and  a  quantity  of 
onions  from  a  shelf  in  the  back-kitchen. 

*  Seed  -  onions,  most  likely,'  said  Connie. 
'  You'll  hear  about  this.' 

'  What  does  it  matter  ?  They  ought  to  have 
been  gilded.     We  must  buy  him.' 

1  And  keep  him  as  long  as  he  lives,'  she  agreed. 
'  But  I  think  I  ought  to  go  home  now.  You  see, 
when  I  came  out  I  didn't  expect  .  .  .  Did 
you  ? ' 

*  No  !  Yes.  ...  It  had  to  come.  .  .  .  But 
it  any  one  had  told  me  an  hour  ago  !  .  .  .  Sidney's 
unspeakable  parlour — and  the  mud  on  the  carpet.' 

'  Oh,  I  say  !      Is  my  cheek  clean  now  ? ' 

'  Not  quite.  Lend  me  your  hanky  again  a 
minute,  darling.   .   .   .   What  a  purler  you  came  !  ' 

'  You  can't  talk.  'Remember  when  your  chin 
hit  that  table  and  you  said  "  blast "  !  I  was  just 
going  to  laugh.' 

'  You  didn't  laugh  when  I  picked  you  up. 
You  were  going  "  00-00-00  "  like  a  little  owl.' 

1  My  dear  child ' 

*  Say  that  again  ! ' 

'  My  dear  child.  (Do  you  really  like  it  ?  I 
keep  it  for  my  best  friends.)  My  dee-ar  child,  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  be  sick  there  and  then. 
He  knocked  every  ounce  of  wind  out  of  me — the 
angel !     But  I  must  really  go.' 


376     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

They  set  off  together,  very  careful  not  to  join 
hands  or  take  arms. 

'  Not  across  the  fields,'  said  Midmore  at  the 
stile.      '  Come  round  by — by  your  own  place.' 

She  flushed  indignantly. 

'  It  will  be  yours  in  a  little  time,'  he  went  on, 
shaken  with  his  own  audacity. 

'  Not  so  much  of  your  little  times,  if  you 
please  ! '  She  shied  like  a  colt  across  the  road  ; 
then  instantly,  like  a  colt,  her  eyes  lit  with  new 
curiosity  as  she  came  in  sight  of  the  drive-gates. 

'  And  not  quite  so  much  of  your  airs  and  graces, 
Madam,'  Midmore  returned,  '  or  I  won't  let  you 
use  our  drive  as  a  short  cut  any  more.' 

'  Oh,  I'll  be  good.  I'll  be  good.'  Her  voice 
changed  suddenly.  '  I  swear  I'll  try  to  be  good, 
dear.  I'm  not  much  of  a  thing  at  the  best. 
What  made  you  .  .   .' 

'  I'm  worse — worse  !  Miles  and  oceans  worse. 
But  what  does  it  matter  now  ?  ' 

They  halted  beside  the  gate-pillars. 

'  I  see  !  '  she  said,  looking  up  the  sodden 
carriage  sweep  to  the  front  door  porch  where 
Rhoda  was  slapping  a  wet  mat  to  and  fro.  '  / 
see.  .  .  .  Now,  I  really  must  go  home.  No  ! 
Don't  you  come.  I  must  speak  to  Mother  first 
all  by  myself.' 

He  watched  her  up  the  hill  till  she  was  out  of 
sight. 


THE   FLOODS 

The  rain  it  rains  without  a  stay- 
in  the  hills  above  us,  in  the  hills  ; 
And  presently  the  floods  break  way 

Whose  strength  is  in  the  hills. 
The  trees  they  suck  from  every  cloud, 
The  valley  brooks  they  roar  aloud — 
Bank-high  for  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills  ! 


The  first  wood  down  is  sere  and  small, 

From  the  hills,  the  brishings  off  the  hills  ; 
And  then  come  by  the  bats  and  all 

We  cut  last  year  in  the  hills  ; 
And  then  the  roots  we  tried  to  cleave 
But  found  too  tough  and  had  to  leave — 
Poking  through  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills  ! 


The  eye  shall  look,  the  ear  shall  hark 
To  the  hills,  the  doings  in  the  hills, 

And  rivers  mating  in  the  dark 
With  tokens  from  the  hills. 
377 


378     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Now  what  is  weak  will  surely  go, 
And  what  is  strong  must  prove  it  so. 
Stand  fast  in  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills  ! 

The  floods  they  shall  not  be  afraid — 
Nor  the  hills  above  'em,  nor  the  hills — 

Of  any  fence  which  man  has  made 
Betwixt  him  and  the  hills. 

The  waters  shall  not  reckon  twice 

For  any  work  of  man's  device, 

But  bid  it  down  to  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills  ! 

The  floods  shall  sweep  corruption  clean — 
By  the  hills,  the  blessing  of  the  hills — 
That  more  the  meadows  may  be  green 

New-mended  from  the  hills. 
The  crops  and  cattle  shall  increase, 
Nor  little  children  shall  not  cease — 
Go — plough  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills  I 


THE  FABULISTS 

When  all  the  world  would  have  a  matter  hid, 
Since  Truth  is  seldom  friend  to  any  crowd, 

Men  write  in  fable,  as  old  iEsop  did, 

Jesting  at  that  which  none  will  name  aloud. 

And  this  they  needs  must  do,  or  it  will  fall 

Unless  they  please  they  are  not  heard  at  all 

When  desperate  Folly  daily  laboureth 
To  work  confusion  upon  all  we  have, 

WThen  diligent  Sloth  demandeth  Freedom's  death, 
And     banded     Fear     commandeth     Honour's 
grave — 

Even  in  that  certain  hour  before  the  fall 

Unless  men  please  they  are  not  heard  at  all. 

Needs  must  all  please,  yet  some  not  all  for  need 
Needs  must  all  toil,  yet  some  not  all  for  gain, 

But  that  men  taking  pleasure  may  take  heed, 
Whom  present  toil  shall  snatch  from  later  pain. 

Thus  some  have  toiled  but  their  reward  was  small 

Since,  though  they  pleased,  they  were  not  heard 
at  all. 

379 


380     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

This  was  the  lock  that  lay  upon  our  lips, 
This  was  the  yoke  that  we  have  undergone, 

Denying  us  all  pleasant  fellowships 
As  in  our  time  and  generation. 

Our  pleasures  unpursued  age  past  recall. 

And  for  our  pains — we  are  not  heard  at  all. 

What  man  hears  aught  except  the  groaning  guns  ? 

What   man  heeds  aught  save  what  each  instant 
brings  ? 
When  each  man's  life  all  imaged  life  outruns, 

What  man  shall  pleasure  in  imaginings? 
So  it  hath  fallen,  as  it  was  bound  to  fall, 
We  are  not,  nor  we  were  not,  heard  at  all. 


The  Vortex 

(August  1 9 14) 

'  Thy  Lord  spoke  by  inspiration  to  the  Bee.' 

Al  Koran. 

I  have,  to  my  grief  and  loss,  suppressed  several 
notable  stories  of  my  friend,  the  Hon.  A.  M. 
Penfentenyou,1  once  Minister  of  Woods  and 
Waysides  in  De  Thouar's  first  administration  ; 
later,  Premier  in  all  but  name  of  one  of  Our  great 
and  growing  Dominions  ;  and  now,  as  always,  the 
idol  of  his  own  Province,  which  is  two  and  one- 
half  the  size  of  England. 

For  this  reason  I  hold  myself  at  liberty  to 
deal  with  some  portion  of  the  truth  concerning 
Penfentenyou's  latest  visit  to  Our  shores.  He 
arrived  at  my  house  by  car,  on  a  hot  summer  day, 
in  a  white  waistcoat  and  spats,  sweeping  black 
frock-coat  and  glistening  top-hat — a  little  rounded, 
perhaps,  at  the  edges,  but  agile  as  ever  in  mind 
and  body. 

'  What  is  the  trouble  now  ? '  I  asked,  for  the 
last  time  we  had  met,  Penfentenyou  was  floating 

1  See  '  The  Puzzler,'  Actions  and  Reactions. 
381 


382     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

a  three-million  pound  loan  for  his  beloved  but 
unscrupulous  Province,  and  I  did  not  wish  to 
entertain  any  more  of  his  financial  friends. 

*  We,'  Penfentenyou  replied  ambassadorially, 
'  have  come  to  have  a  Voice  in  Your  Councils. 
By  the  way,  the  Voice  is  coming  down  on  the 
evening  train  with  my  Agent-General.  I  thought 
you  wouldn't  mind  if  I  invited  'em.  You  know 
We're  going  to  share  Your  burdens  henceforward. 
You'd  better  get  into  training.' 

'Certainly,'  I  replied.  'What's  the  Voice 
like  ? ' 

'  He's  in  earnest,'  said  Penfentenyou.  '  He's 
got  It,  and  he's  got  It  bad.  He'll  give  It  to  you,' 
he  said. 

'  What's  his  name  ? ' 

'  We  call  him  all  sorts  of  names,  but  I  think 
you'd  better  call  him  Mr.  Lingnam.  You  won't 
have  to  do  it  more  than  once.' 

'  What's  he  suffering  from  ? ' 

'  The  Empire.  He's  pretty  nearly  cured  us  all 
of  Imperialism  at  home.     P'raps  he'll  cure  you. 

'Very  good.     What  am  I  to  do  with  him  ? '  • 

'  Don't  you  worry,'  said  Penfentenyou.  '  He'll 
do  it.' 

And  when  Mr.  Lingnam  appeared  half-an-hour" 
later  with  the  Agent-General  for  Penfentenyou's 
Dominion,  he  did  just  that. 

He  advanced  across  the  lawn  eloquent  as  all 
the  tides.  He  said  he  had  been  observing  to  the 
Agent-General  that  it  was  both  politically  immoral 
and  strategically  unsound  that  forty-four  million 
people    should    bear    the    entire    weight    of    the 


THE  VORTEX  383 

defences  of  Our  mighty  Empire,  but,  as  he  had 
observed  (here  the  Agent-Generai  evaporated),  we 
stood  now  upon  the  threshold  of  a  new  era  in 
which  the  self-governing  and  self-respecting  (bis) 
Dominions  would  rightly  and  righteously,  as  co- 
partners in  Empery,  shoulder  their  share  of  any 
burden  which  the  Pan-Imperial  Council  of  the 
Future  should  allot.  The  Agent-General  was 
already  arranging  for  drinks  with  Penfentenyou 
at  the  other  end  of  the  garden.  Mr.  Lingnam 
swept  me  on  to  the  most  remote  bench  and  settled 
to  his  theme. 

We  dined  at  eight.  At  nine  Mr.  Lingnam 
was  only  drawing  abreast  of  things  Imperial.  At 
ten  the  Agent-General,  who  earns  his  salary,  was 
shamelessly  dozing  on  the  sofa.  At  eleven  he  and 
Penfentenyou  went  to  bed.  At  midnight  Mr. 
Lingnam  brought  down  his  big-bellied  despatch 
box  with  the  newspaper  clippings  and  set  to 
federating  the  Empire  in  earnest.  I  remember 
that  he  had  three  alternative  plans.  As  a  dealer 
in  words,  I  plumped  for  the  resonant  third—- 
'  Reciprocally  co-ordinated  Senatorial  Hegemony  ' 
— which  he  then  elaborated  in  detail  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour.  At  half-past  one  he  urged 
me  to  have  faith  and  to  remember  that  nothing 
mattered  except  the  Idea.  Then  he  retired  to  his 
room,  accompanied  by  one  glass  of  cold  water,  and 
I  went  into  the  dawn-lit  garden  and  prayed  to 
any  Power  that  might  be  off  duty  for  the  blood 
of  Mr.  Lingnam,  Penfentenyou,  and  the  Agent- 
General. 

To  me,  as  I  have  often  observed  elsewhere,  the 


384     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

hour  of  earliest  dawn  is  fortunate,  and  the  wind 
that  runs  before  it  has  ever  been  my  most  com- 
fortable counsellor. 

'  Wait !  '  it  said,  all  among  the  night's  expectant 
rosebuds.  '  To-morrow  is  also  a  day.  Wait  upon 
the  Event  ! ' 

I  went  to  bed  so  at  peace  with  God  and  Man 
and  Guest  that  when  I  waked  I  visited  Mr. 
Lingnam  in  pyjamas,  and  he  talked  to  me  Pan- 
Imperially  for  half-an-hour  before  his  bath.  Later, 
the  Agent  -  General  said  he  had  letters  to  write, 
and  Penfentenyou  invented  a  Cabinet  crisis  in  his 
adored  Dominion  which  would  keep  him  busy 
with  codes  and  cables  all  the  forenoon.  But  I 
said  firmly,  '  Mn  Lingnam  wishes  to  see  a  little 
of  the  country  round  here.  You  are  coming  with 
us  in  your  own  car.' 

1  It's  a  hired  one,'  Penfentenyou  objected. 

*  Yes.     Paid  for  by  me  as  a  taxpayer,'  I  replied. 

'  And  yours  has  a  top,  and  the  weather  looks 
thundery,'  said  the  Agent-General.  '  Ours  hasn't 
a  wind-screen.      Even  our  goggles  were  hired.' 

'  I'll  lend  you  goggles,'  I  said.  '  My  car  is 
under  repairs.' 

The  hireling  who  had  looked  to  be  returned  to 
London  spat  and  growled  on  the  drive.  She  was 
an  open  car,  capable  of  some  eighteen  miles  on 
the  flat,  with  tetanic  gears  and  a  perpetual  palsy. 

'  It  won't  make  the  least  difference,'  sighed  the 
Agent-General.  £  He'll  only  raise  his  voice.  He 
did  it  all  the  way  coming  down.' 

'  I  say;'  said  Penfentenyou  suspiciously,  '  what 
are  you  doing  all  this /or  ? ' 


THE  VORTEX  385 

*  Love  of  the  Empire,'  I  answered,  as  Mr. 
Lingnam  tripped  up  in  dust-coat  and  binoculars. 
*  Now,  Mr.  Lingnam  will  tell  us  exactly  what  he 
wants  to  see.  He  probably  knows  more  about 
England  than  the  rest  of  us  put  together.' 

*  I  read  it  up  yesterday,'  said  Mr.  Lingnam 
simply.  While  we  stowed  the  lunch-basket  (one 
can  never  make  too  sure  with  a  hired  car)  he  out- 
lined a  very  pretty  and  instructive  little  day's  run. 

'  You'll  drive,  of  course  ? '  said  Penfentenyou 
to  him.  '  It's  the  only  thing  you  know  anything 
about.' 

This  astonished  me,  for  your  greater  Federa- 
tionists  are  rarely  mechanicians,  but  Mr.  Lingnam 
said  he  would  prefer  to  be  inside  for  the  present 
and  enjoy  our  conversation. 

Well  settled  on  the  back  seat,  he  did  not  once 
lift  his  eyes  to  the  mellow  landscape  around  him, 
or  throw  a  word  at  the  life  of  the  English  road 
which  to  me  is  one  renewed  and  unreasoned  orgy 
of  delight.  The  mustard-coloured  scouts  of  the 
Automobile  Association  ;  their  natural  enemies, 
the  unjust  police ;  our  natural  enemies,  the 
deliberate  market-day  cattle,  broadside-on  at  all 
corners,  the  bicycling  butcher-boy  a  furlong 
behind  ;  road-engines  that  pulled  giddy-go-rounds, 
rifle  galleries,  and  swings,  and  sucked  snortingly 
from  wayside  ponds  in  defiance  of  the  notice- 
board  ;  traction-engines,  their  trailers  piled  high 
with  road  metal ;  uniformed  village  nurses,  one 
per  seven  statute  miles,  flitting  by  on  their  wheels  ; 
governess-carts  full  of  pink  children  jogging  un- 
concernedly  past   roaring,    brazen   touring-cars ; 

2  c 


386     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  wayside  rector  with  virgins  in  attendance,  their 
faces  screwed  up  against  our  dust ;  motor-bicycles 
of  every  shape  charging  down  at  every  angle  ;  red 
flags  of  rifle-ranges ;  detachments  of  dusty- 
putteed  Territorials  ;  coveys  of  flagrant  children 
playing  in  mid-street,  and  the  wise,  educated 
English  dog  safe  and  quite  silent  on  the  pavement 
if  his  fool-mistress  would  but  cease  from  trying 
to  save  him,  passed  and  repassed  us  in  sunlit  or 
shaded  settings.  But  Mr.  Lingnam  only  talked. 
He  talked — we  all  sat  together  behind  so  that  we 
could  not  escape  him — and  he  talked  above  the 
worn  gears  and  a  certain  maddening  swish  of  one 
badly  patched  tire — and  he  talked  of  the  Federation 
of  the  Empire  against  all  conceivable  dangers 
except  himself.  Yet  I  was  neither  brutally  rude 
like  Penfentenyou,  nor  swooningly  bored  like  the 
Agent-General.  I  remembered  a  certain  Joseph 
Finsbury  who  delighted  the  Tregonwell  Arms  on 
the  borders  of  the  New  Forest  with  '  nine ' — it 
should  have  been  ten — '  versions  of  a  single  income 
of  two  hundred  pounds '  placing  the  imaginary 
person  in — but.  I  could  not  recall  the  list  of  towns 
further  than  '  London,  Paris,  Bagdad,  and  Spits- 
bergen.' This  last  I  must  have  murmured  aloud, 
for  the  Agent-General  suddenly  became  human 
and  went  on  :  '  Bussoran,  Heligoland,  and  the 
Scilly  Islands ' 

1  What  ?  '  growled  Penfentenyou. 

1  Nothing,'  said  the  Agent-General,  squeezing 
my  hand  affectionately.  '  Only  we  have  just 
found  out  that  we  are  brothers.' 

*  Exactly,'  said  Mr.  Lingnam.      '  That's   what 


THE  VORTEX  387 

I've  been  trying  to  lead  up  to.  We're  all 
brothers.  D'you  realise  that  fifteen  years  ago 
such  a  conversation  as  we're  having  would  have 
been  unthinkable  ?  The  Empire  wouldn't  have 
been  ripe  for  it.     To  go  back,  even  ten  years ' 

*  I've  got  it,'  cried  the  Agent  -  General. 
'"Brighton,  Cincinnati,  and  Nij ni- Novgorod  !  " 
God  bless  R.  L.  S.  !  Go  on,  Uncle  Joseph.  I  can 
endure  much  now.' 

Mr.  Lingnam  went  on  like  our  shandrydan, 
slowly  and  loudly.  He  admitted  that  a  man 
obsessed  with  a  Central  Idea — and,  after  all,  the 
only  thing  that  mattered  was  the  Idea — might 
become  a  bore,  but  the  World's  Work,  he  pointed 
out,  had  been  done  by  bores.  So  he  laid  his  bones 
down  to  that  work  till  we  abandoned  ourselves  to 
the  passage  of  time  and  the  Mercy  of  Allah, 
Who  Alone  closes  the  Mouths  of  His  Prophets. 
And  we  wasted  more  than  fifty  miles  of  summer's 
vivid  own  England  upon  him  the  while. 

About  two  o'clock  we  topped  Sumtner  Rising 
and  looked  down  on  the  village  of  Sumtner 
Barton,  which  lies  just  across  a  single  railway  line, 
spanned  by  a  red  brick  bridge.  The  thick, 
thunderous  June  airs  brought  us  gusts  of  melody 
from  a  giddy-go-round  steam-organ  in  full  blast 
near  the  pond  on  the  village  green.  Drums,  too, 
thumped  and  banners  waved  and  regalia  flashed 
at  the  far  end  of  the  broad  village  street.  Mr. 
Lingnam  asked  why. 

'  Nothing  Imperial,  I'm  afraid.  It  looks  like 
a  Foresters'  Fete — one  of  our  big  Mutual  Benefit 
Societies,'  I  explained. 


388     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  The  Idea  only  needs  to  be  co-ordinated  to 
Imperial  scale '  he  began. 

'  But  it  means  that  the  pub.  will  be  crowded/ 
I  went  on. 

*  What's  the  matter  with  lunching  by  the 
roadside  here  ?  '  said  Penfentenyou.  '  We've  got 
the  lunch-basket.' 

'  Haven't  you  ever  heard  of  Sumtner  Barton 
ales  ? '  I  demanded,  and  he  became  the  adminis- 
trator at  once,  saying,  '  /  see  !  Lingnam  can 
drive  us  in  and  we'll  get  some,  while  Holford ' — 
this  was  the  hireling  chauffeur,  whose  views  on 
beer  we  knew  not — '  lays  out  lunch  here.  That'll 
be  better  than  eating  at  the  pub.  We  can  take 
in  the  Foresters'  Fete  as  well,  and  perhaps  I  can 
buy  some  newspapers  at  the  station.' 

*  True,'  I  answered.  c  The  railway  station  is 
just  under  that  bridge,  and  we'll  come  back  and 
lunch  here.' 

I  indicated  a  terrace  of  cool  clean  shade 
beneath  kindly  beeches  at  the  head  of  Sumtner 
Rise.  As  Holford  got  out  the  lunch-basket,  a 
detachment  of  Regular  troops  on  manoeuvres 
swung  down  the  baking  road. 

'  Ah ! '  said  Mr.  Lingnam,  the  monthly- 
magazine  roll  in  his  voice.  '  All  Europe  is  an 
armed  camp,  groaning,  as  I  remember  I  once 
wrote,  under  the  weight  of  its  accoutrements.' 

'  Oh,  hop  in  and  drive,'  cried  Penfentenyou. 
*  We  want  that  beer  ! ' 

It  made  no  difference.  Mr.  Lingnam  could 
have  federated  the  Empire  from  a  tight  rope.  He 
continued  his  oration  at  the  wheel  as  we  trundled. 


THE  VORTEX  389 

'  The  danger  to  the  Younger  Nations  is  of 
being  drawn  into  this  vortex  of  Militarism,'  he 
went  on,  dodging  the  rear  of  the  soldiery. 

'  Slow  past  troops,'  I  hinted.  c  It  saves  'em 
dust.  And  we  overtake  on  the  right  as  a  rule  in 
England.' 

i  Thanks  I '  Mr.  Lingnam  slued  over.  '  That's 
another  detail  which  needs  to  be  co-ordinated 
throughout  the  Empire.  But  to  go  back  to  what 
I  was  saying.  My  idea  has  always  been  that  the 
component  parts  of  the  Empire  should  take  counsel 
among  themselves  on  the  approach  of  war,  so  that, 
after  we  have  decided  on  the  merits  of  the  casus  belli, 
we  can  co-ordinate  what  part  each  Dominion  shall 
play  whenever  war  is,  unfortunately,  a  possibility.' 

We  neared  the  hog-back  railway  bridge,  and 
the  hireling  knocked  piteously  at  the  grade.  Mr. 
Lingnam  changed  gears,  and  she  hoisted  herself  up 
to  a  joyous  Toup-i-addy-i-ay  !  from  the  steam- 
organ.  As  we  topped  the  arch  we  saw  a  Foresters' 
band  with  banners  marching  down  the  street. 

*  That's  all  very  fine,'  said  the  Agent-General, 
1  but  in  real  life  things  have  a  knack  of  happening 
without  approaching ' 

(Some  schools  of  Thought  hold  that  Time  is 
not ;  and  that  when  we  attain  complete  enlighten- 
ment we  shall,  behold  past,  present,  and  future  as 
One  Awful  Whole.  I  myself  have  nearly  achieved 
this.) 

We  dipped  over  the  bridge  into  the  village.  A 
boy  on  a  bicycle,  loaded  with  four  paper  bonnet- 


390     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

boxes,  pedalled  towards  us,  out  of  an  alley  on  our 
right.  He  bowed  his  head  the  better  to  overcome 
the  ascent,  and  naturally  took  his  left.  Mr.  Ling- 
nam  swerved  frantically  to  the  right.  Penfentenyou 
shouted.  The  boy  looked  up,  saw  the  car  was  like 
to  squeeze  him  against  the  bridge  wall,  flung  him- 
self off*  his  machine  and  across  the  narrow  pave- 
ment into  the  nearest  house.  He  slammed  the 
door  at  the  precise  moment  when  the  car,  all  brakes 
set,  bunted  the  abandoned  bicycle,  shattering  three 
of  the  bonnet-boxes  and  jerking  the  fourth  over  the 
unscreened  dashboard  into  Mr.  Lingnam's  arms. 

There  was  a  dead  stillness,  then  a  hiss  like  that 
of  escaping  steam,  and  a  man  who  had  been  running 
towards  us  ran  the  other  way. 

1  Why  !  I  think  that  those  must  be  bees,'  said 
Mr.  Lingnam. 

They  were — four  full  swarms — and  the  first 
living  objects  which  he  had  remarked  upon  all  day. 

Some  one  said,  '  Oh,  God  ! '  The  Agent- 
General  went  out  over  the  back  of  the  car,  crying 
resolutely  :  '  Stop  the  traffic  !  Stop  the  traffic, 
there  !  '  Penfentenyou  was  already  on  the  pave- 
ment ringing  a  door-bell,  so  I  had  both  their  rugs, 
which — for  I  am  an  apiarist — I  threw  over  my 
head.  While  I  was  tucking  my  trousers  into  my 
socks — for  I  am  an  apiarist  of  experience — Mr. 
Lingnam  picked  up  the  unexploded  bonnet-box 
and  with  a  single  magnificent  gesture  (he  told  us 
afterwards  he  thought  there  was  a  river  beneath) 
hurled  it  over  the  parapet  of  the  bridge,  ere  he 
ran  across  the  road  toward  the  village  green.  Now, 
the  station  platform  immediately  below  was  crowded 


THE  VORTEX  391 

with  Foresters  and  their  friends  waiting  to  welcome 
a  delegation  from  a  sister  Court.  I  saw  the  box 
burst  on  the  flint  edging  of  the  station  garden  and 
the  contents  sweep  forward  cone-wise  like  shrapnel. 
But  the  result  was  stimulating  rather  than  sedative. 
All  those  well-dressed  people  below  shouted  like 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  Then  they  moved  as  a 
unit  into  the  booking-office,  the  waiting-rooms, 
and  other  places,  shut  doors  and  windows  and  de- 
claimed aloud,  while  the  incoming  train  whistled 
far  down  the  line. 

I  pivoted  round  cross-legged  on  the  back  seat, 
like  a  Circassian  beauty  beneath  her  veil,  and  saw 
Penfentenyou,  his  coat-collar  over  his  ears,  dancing 
before  a  shut  door  and  holding  up  handfuls  of 
currency  to  a  silver-haired  woman  at  an  upper 
window,  who  only  mouthed  and  shook  her  head. 
A  little  child,  carrying  a  kitten,  came  smiling 
round  a  corner.  Suddenly  (but  these  things  moved 
me  no  more  than  so  many  yards  of  threepenny 
cinematograph-film)  the  kitten  leaped  spitting  from 
her  arms,  the  child  burst  into  tears,  Penfentenyou, 
still  dancing,  snatched  her  up  and  tucked  her  under 
his  coat,  the  woman's  countenance  blanched,  the 
front  door  opened,  Penfentenyou  and  the  child 
pressed  through,  and  I  was  alone  in  an  inhospit- 
able world  where  every  one  was  shutting  windows 
and  calling  children  home. 

A  voice  cried  :  *  You've  frowtened  'em  ! 
You've  frowtened  'em  !  Throw  dust  on  'em  and 
they'll  settle ! ' 

I  did  not  desire  to  throw  dust  on  any  created 
thing.     I  needed  both  hands  for  my  draperies  and 


392     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

two  more  for  my  stockings.  Besides,  the  bees 
were  doing  me  no  hurt.  They  recognised  me  as 
a  member  of  the  County  Bee-keepers'  Association 
who  had  paid  his  annual  subscription  and  was  en- 
titled to  a  free  seat  at  all  apicultural  exhibitions. 
The  quiver  and  the  churn  of  the  hireling  car,  or 
it  might  have  been  the  lurching  banners  and  the 
arrogant  big  drum,  inclined  many  of  them  to  go 
up  street,  and  pay  court  to  the  advancing  Foresters' 
band.  So  they  went,  such  as  had  not  followed 
Mr.  Lingnam  in  his  flight  toward  the  green,  and 
I  looked  out  of  two  goggled  eyes  instead  of  half  a 
one  at  the  approaching  musicians,  while  I  listened 
with  both  ears  to  the  delayed  train's  second  whistle 
down  the  line  beneath  me. 

The  Foresters'  band  no  more  knew  what  was 
coming  than  do  troops  under  sudden  fire.  Indeed, 
there  were  the  same  extravagant  gestures  and  con- 
tortions as  attend  wounds  and  deaths  in  war  ;  the 
very  same  uncanny  cessations  of  speech — for  the 
trombone  was  cut  off  at  midslide,  even  as  a  man 
drops  with  a  syllable  on  his  tongue.  They  clawed, 
they  slapped,  they  fled,  leaving  behind  them  a 
trophy  of  banners  and  brasses  crudely  arranged 
round  the  big  drum.  Then  that  end  of  the  street 
also  shut  its  windows,  and  the  village,  stripped  of 
life,  lay  round  me  like  a  reef  at  low  tide.  Though 
I  am,  as  I  have  said,  an  apiarist  in  good  standing, 
I  never  realised  that  there  were  so  many  bees  in 
the  world.  When  they  had  woven  a  flashing 
haze  from  one  end  of  the  desert  street  to  the 
other,  there  remained  reserves  enough  to  form 
knops  and  pendules  on  all  window-sills  and  gutter- 


THE  VORTEX  393 

ends,  without  diminishing  the  multitudes  in  the 
three  oozing  bonnet-boxes,  or  drawing  on  the 
Fourth  (Railway)  Battalion  in  charge  of  the  station 
below.  The  prisoners  in  the  waiting-rooms  and 
other  places  there  cried  out  a  great  deal  (I  argued 
that  they  were  dying  of  the  heat),  and  at  regular 
intervals  the  stationmaster  called  and  called  to  a 
signalman  who  was  not  on  duty,  and  the  train 
whistled  as  it  drew  nearer. 

Then  Penfentenyou,  venal  and  adaptable  poli- 
tician of  the  type  that  survives  at  the  price  of  all 
the  higher  emotions,  appeared  at  the  window  of 
the  house  on  my  right,  broken  and  congested  with 
mirth,  the  woman  beside  him,  and  the  child  in 
his  arms.  I  saw  his  mouth  open  and  shut,  he 
hollowed  his  hands  round  it,  but  the  churr  of 
the  motor  and  the  bees  drowned  his  words.  He 
pointed  dramatically  across  the  street  many  times 
and  fell  back,  tears  running  down  his  face.  I 
turned  like  a  hooded  barbette  in  a  heavy  seaway 
(not  knowing  when  my  trousers  would  come  out 
of  my  socks  again)  through  one  hundred  and 
eighty  degrees,  and  in  due  time  bore  on  the  village 
green.  There  was  a  salmon  in  the  pond,  rising 
short  at  a  cloud  of  midges  to  the  tune  of  Tip-i- 
addy  ;  but  there  was  none  to  gaff  him.  The 
swing-boats  were  empty,  cocoa-nuts  sat  still  on 
their  red  sticks  before  white  screens,  and  the  gay- 
painted  horses  of  the  giddy-go-rounds  revolved 
riderless.  All  was  melody,  green  turf,  bright 
water,  and  this  greedy  gambolling  fish.  When 
I  had  identified  it  by  its  grey  gills  and  binoculars 
as  Lingnam,  I  prostrated  myself  before  Allah  in 


394     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

that  mirth  which  is  more  truly  labour  than  any 
prayer.  Then  I  turned  to  the  purple  Penfentenyou 
at  the  window,  and  wiped  my  eyes  on  the  rug  edge. 

He  raised  the  window  half  one  cautious  inch 
and  bellowed  through  the  crack :  '  Did  you  see 
him  ?  Have  they  got  you  ?  I  can  see  lots  of 
things  from  here.     It's  like  a  three-ring  circus  ! ' 

1  Can  you  see  the  station  ? '  I  replied,  nodding 
toward  the  right  rear  mudguard. 

He  twisted  and  craned  sideways,  but  could  not 
command  that  beautiful  view. 

*  No  !     What's  it  like  ? '  he  cried. 

i  Hell  ! '  I  shouted.  The  silvery-haired  woman 
frowned  ;  so  did  Penfentenyou,  and,  I  think, 
apologised  to  her  for  my  language. 

'  You're  always  so  extreme,'  he  fluted  reproach- 
fully. *  You  forget  that  nothing  matters  except 
the  Idea.     Besides,  they  are  this  lady's  bees.' 

He  closed  the  window,  and  introduced  us 
through  it  in  dumb  show  ;  but  he  contrived  to 
give  the  impression  that  /  was  the  specimen  under 
glass. 

A  spurt  of  damp  steam  saved  me  from  apoplexy. 
The  train  had  lost  patience  at  last,  and  was  coming 
into  the  station  directly  beneath  me  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  Happy  voices  sang  and  heads 
were  thrust  out  all  along  the  compartments,  but 
none  answered  their  songs  or  greetings.  She 
halted,  and  the  people  began  to  get  out.  Then 
they  began  to  get  in  again,  as  their  friends  in 
the  waiting-rooms  advised.  All  did  not  catch 
the  warning,  so  there  was  congestion  at  the  doors, 
but  those  whom  the  bees  caught  got  in  first. 


THE  VORTEX  395 

Still  the  bees,  more  bent  on  their  own  business 
than  wanton  torture,  kept  to  the  south  end  of 
the  platform  by  the  bookstall,  and  that  was  why 
the  completely  exposed  engine-driver  at  the  north 
end  of  the  train  did  not  at  first  understand  the 
hermetically  sealed  stationmaster  when  the  latter 
shouted  to  him  many  times  to  '  get  on  out  o'  this.' 

'  Where  are  you  ? '  was  the  reply.  '  And  what 
for?' 

1  It  don't  matter  where  I  am,  an'  you'll  get 
what-for  in  a  minute  if  you  don't  shift,'  said  the 
stationmaster.  '  Drop  'em  at  Parson's  Meadow 
and  they  can  walk  up  over  the  fields.' 

That  bare-armed,  thin-shirted  idiot,  leaning 
out  of  the  cab,  took  the  stationmaster's  orders 
as  an  insult  to  his  dignity,  and  roared  at  the  shut 
offices:     'You'll    give    me    what    for,   will    you? 

Look   'ere,    I'm   not   in   the   'abit   of '      His 

outstretched  hand  flew  to  his  neck.  .  .  .  Do  you 
know  that  if  you  sting  an  engine-driver  it  is 
the  same  as  Stinging  his  train  ?  She  starts  with  a 
jerk  that  nearly  smashes  the  couplings,  and  runs, 
barking  like  a  dog,  till  she  is  out  of  sight.  Nor 
does  she  think  about  spilled  people  and  parted 
families  on  the  platform  behind  her.  I  had  to 
do  all  that.  There  was  a  man  called  Fred,  and 
his  wife  Harriet — a  cheery,  full-blooded  couple — 
who  interested  me  immensely  before  they  battered 
their  way  into  a  small  detached  building,  already 
densely  occupied.  There  was  also  a  nameless 
bachelor  who  sat  under  a  half-opened  umbrella 
and  twirled  it  dizzily,  which  was  so  new  a  game 
that  I  applauded  aloud. 


396     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

When  they  had  thoroughly  cleared  the  ground, 
the  bees  set  about  making  comb  for  publication 
at  the  bookstall  counter.  Presently  some  bold 
hearts  tiptoed  out  of  the  waiting-rooms  over  the 
loud  gravel  with  the  consciously  modest  air  of 
men  leaving  church,  climbed  the  wooden  staircase 
to  the  bridge,  and  so  reached  my  level,  where 
the  inexhaustible  bonnet-boxes  were  still  vomiting 
squadrons  and  platoons.  There  was  little  need 
to  bid  them  descend.  They  had  wrapped  their 
heads  in  handkerchiefs,  so  that  they  looked  like 
the  disappointed  dead  scuttling  back  to  Purgatory. 
Only  one  old  gentleman,  pontifically  draped  in 
a  banner  embroidered  '  Temperance  and  Fortitude,' 
ran  the  gauntlet  up-street,  shouting  as  he  passed 
me,  *  It's  night  or  Bliicher,  Mister.'  They  let 
him  in  at  the  White  Hart,  the  pub.  where  I 
should  have  bought  the  beer. 

After  this  the  day  sagged.  I  fell  to  reckoning 
how  long  a  man  in  a  Turkish  bath,  weakened  by 
excessive  laughter,  could  live  without  food,  and 
specially  drink  ;  and  how  long  a  disenfranchised 
bee  could  hold  out  under  the  same  conditions. 

Obviously,  since  her  one  practical  joke  costs  her 
her  life,  the  bee  can  have  but  small  sense  of 
humour  ;  but  her  fundamentally  dismal  and  un- 
gracious outlook  on  life  impressed  me  beyond 
words.  She  had  paralysed  locomotion,  wiped  out 
trade,  social  intercourse,  mutual  trust,  love,  friend- 
ship, sport,  music  (the  lonely  steam-organ  had  run 
down  at  last),  all  that  gives  substance,  colour  or 
savour  to  life,  and  yet,  in  the  barren  desert  she  had 
created,  was  not  one  whit  more  near  to  the  evolu- 


THE  VORTEX  397 

tion  of  a  saner  order  of  things.  The  Heavens 
were  darkened  with  the  swarms'  divided  counsels  ; 
the  street  shimmered  with  their  purposeless  sallies. 
They  clotted  on  tiles  and  gutter-pipes,  and  began 
frenziedly  to  build  a  cell  or  two  of  comb  ere  they 
discovered  that  their  queen  was  not  with  them  ; 
then  flung  of?  to  seek  her,  or  whirled,  dishevelled 
and  insane,  into  another  hissing  nebula  on  the 
false  rumour  that  she  was  there.  I  scowled  upon 
them  with  disfavour,  and  a  massy,  blue  thunder- 
head  rose  majestically  from  behind  the  elm-trees 
of  Sumtner  Barton  Rectory,  arched  over  and 
scowled  with  me.  Then  I  realised  that  it  was  not 
bees  nor  locusts  that  had  darkened  the  skies,  but 
the  oncoming  of  the  malignant  English  thunder- 
storm— the  one  thing  before  which  even  Deborah 
the  bee  cannot  express  her  silly  little  self. 

1  Aha  !  Now  you'll  catch  it,'  I  said,  as  the 
herald  gusts  set  the  big  drum  rolling  down  the 
street  like  a  box-kite.  Up  and  up  yearned  the 
dark  cloud,  till  the  first  lightning  quivered  and 
cut.  Deborah  cowered.  Where  she  flew,  there 
she  fled  ;  where  she  was,  there  she  sat  still ;  and  the 
solid  rain  closed  in  on  her  as  a  book  that  is  closed 
when  the  chapter  is  finished.  By  the  time  it  had 
soaked  to  my  second  rug,  Penfentenyou  appeared 
at  the  window,  wiping  his  false  mouth  on  a  napkin. 

1  Are  you  all  right  ?  '  he  inquired.  '  Then  that's 
all  right  !  Mrs.  Bellamy  says  that  her  bees  don't 
sting  in  the  wet.  You'd  better  fetch  Lingnam 
over.     He's  got  to  pay  for  them  and  the  bicycle.' 

I  had  no  words  which  the  silver-haired  lady 
could  listen   to,  but  paddled  across   the   flooded 


398     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

street  between  flashes  to  the  pond  on  the  green. 
Mr.  Lingnam,  scarcely  visible  through  the  sheeting 
downpour,  trotted  round  the  edge.  He  bore 
himself  nobly,  and  lied  at  the  mere  sight  of  me. 

'Isn't  this  wet?'  he  cried.  'It  has  drenched 
me  to  the  skin.     I  shall  need  a  change.' 

'  Come  along,'  I  said.  '  I  don't  know  what 
you'll  get,  but  you  deserve  more.' 

Penfentenyou,  dry,  fed,  and  in  command,  let  us 
in.  *  You,'  he  whispered  to  me,  '  are  to  wait  in  the 
scullery.  Mrs.  Bellamy  didn't  like  the  way  you 
talked  about  her  bees.  Hsh !  Hsh  !  She's  a 
kind-hearted  lady.  She's  a  widow,  Lingnam,  but 
she's  kept  fas  clothes,  and  as  soon  as  you've  paid 
for  the  damage  she'll  rent  you  a  suit.  I've 
arranged  it  all ! ' 

'  Then  tell  him  he  mustn't  undress  in  my  hall,' 
said  a  voice  from  the  stair-head. 

'  Tell  her '  Lingnam  began. 

'  Come  and  look  at  the  pretty  suit  I've  chosen,' 
Penfentenyou  cooed,  as  one  cajoling  a  maniac. 

I  staggered  out-of-doors  again,  and  fell  into  the 
car,  whose  ever-running  machinery  masked  my 
yelps  and  hiccups.  When  I  raised  my  forehead 
from  the  wheel,  I  saw  that  traffic  through  the 
village  had  been  resumed,  after,  as  my  watch 
showed,  one  and  one-half  hour's  suspension.  There 
were  two  limousines,  one  landau,  one  doctor's  car, 
three  touring-cars,  one  patent  steam-laundry  van, 
three  tricars,  one  traction-engine,  some  motor- 
cycles, one  with  a  side-car,  and  one  brewery  lorry. 
It  was  the  allegory  of  my  own  imperturbable 
country,  delayed  for  a  short  time  by  unforeseen 


THE  VORTEX  399 

external  events  but  now  going  about  her  business, 
and  I  blessed  Her  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  even 
though  I  knew  She  looked  upon  me  as  drunk  and 
incapable. 

Then  troops  came  over  the  bridge  behind  me — 
a  company  of  dripping  wet  Regulars  without  any 
expression.  In  their  rear,  carrying  the  lunch- 
basket,  marched  the  Agent-General  and  Holford 
the  hired  chauffeur. 

'  I  say,'  said  the  Agent-General,  nodding  at  the 
darkened  khaki  backs.  '  If  that's  what  we've  got 
to  depend  on  in  event  of  war  they're  a  broken 
reed.  They  ran  like  hares — ran  like  hares,  I  tell 
you." 

*  And  you  ? '  I  asked. 

'Oh,  I  just  sauntered  back  over  the  bridge  and 
stopped  the  traffic  that  end.  Then  I  had  lunch. 
'Pity  about  the  beer,  though.  I  say  —  these 
cushions  are  sopping  wet  ! ' 

'  I'm  sorry,'  I  said.  '  I  haven't  had  time  to 
turn  'em.' 

'  Nor  there  wasn't  any  need  to  'ave  kept  the 
engine  runnin'  all  this  time,'  said  Holford  sternly. 
'  I'll  'ave  to  account  for  the  expenditure  of  petrol. 
It  exceeds  the  mileage  indicated,  you  see.' 

'  I'm  sorry,'  I  repeated.  After  all,  that  is  the 
way  that  taxpayers  regard  most  crises. 

The  house-door  opened  and  Penfentenyou  and 
another  came  out  into  the  now  thinning  rain. 

1  Ah  !  There  you  both  are  !  Here's  Lingnam,' 
he  cried.  '  He's  got  a  little  wet.  He's  had  to 
change.' 

'  We  saw  that.     1  was  too  sore  and  weak  to 


4oo     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

begin  another  laugh,  but  the  Agent  -  General 
crumpled  up  where  he  stood.  The  late  Mr.  Bellamy- 
must  have  been  a  man  of  tremendous  personality, 
which  he  had  impressed  on  every  angle  of  his 
garments.  I  was  told  later  that  he  had  died  in 
delirium  tremens,  which  at  once  explained  the 
pattern,  and  the  reason  why  Mr.  Lingnam,  writhing 
inside  it,  swore  so  inspiredly.  Of  the  deliberate 
and  diffuse  Federationist  there  remained  no  trace, 
save  the  binoculars  and  two  damp  whiskers.  We 
stood  on  the  pavement,  before  Elemental  Man 
calling  on  Elemental  Powers  to  condemn  and 
incinerate  Creation. 

'  Well,  hadn't  we  better  be  getting  back.  ?  " 
said  the  Agent-General. 

*  Look  out  ! '  I  remarked  casually.  '  Those 
bonnet-boxes  are  full  of  bees  still !  ' 

*  Are  they  ? '  said  the  livid  Mr.  Lingnam,  and 
tilted  them  over  with  the  late  Mr.  Bellamy's 
large  boots.  Deborah  rolled  out  in  drenched 
lumps  into  the  swilling  gutter.  There  was  a 
muffled  shriek  at  the  window  where  Mrs.  Bellamy 
gesticulated. 

1  It's  all  right.  I've  paid  for  them,'  said 
Mr.  Lingnam.  He  dumped  out  the  last  dregs 
like  mould  from  a  pot-bound  flower-pot. 

*  What  ?  Are  you  going  to  take  'em  home 
with  you  ? '  said  the  Agent-General. 

*  No  !  '  He  passed  a  wet  hand  over  his  streaky 
forehead.  '  Wasn't  there  a  bicycle  that  was  the 
beginning  of  this  trouble  ?  '  said  he. 

'  It's  under  the  fore-axle,  sir,'  said  Holford 
promptly.     '  I  can  fish  it  out  from  'ere.' 


THE  VORTEX  401 

'Not  till  I've  done  with  it,  please.'  Before  we 
could  stop  him,  he  had  jumped  into  the  car  and 
taken  charge.  The  hireling  leaped  into  her 
collar,  surged,  shrieked  (less  loudly  than  Mrs. 
Bellamy  at  the  window),  and  swept  on.  That 
which  came  out  behind  her  was,  as  Holford  truly 
observed,  no  joy-wheel.  Mr.  Lingnam  swung 
round  the  big  drum  in  the  market-place  and 
thundered  back,  shouting  :  '  Leave  it  alone.  It's 
my  meat  !  ' 

1  Mince-meat,  'e  means,'  said  Holford  after  this 
second  trituration.  'You  couldn't  say  now  it 
'ad  ever  been  one,  could  you  ? ' 

Mrs.  Bellamy  opened  the  window  and  spoke. 
It  appears  she  had  only  charged  for  damage  to  the 
bicycle,  not  for  the  entire  machine  which  Mr. 
Lingnam  was  ruthlessly  gleaning,  spoke  by  spoke, 
from  the  highway  and  cramming  into  the  slack  of 
the  hood.  At  last  he  answered,  and  I  have  never 
seen  a  man  foam  at  the  mouth  before.  *  If  you 
don't  stop,  I  shall  come  into  your  house — in  this 
car — and  drive  upstairs  and — kill  you  !  ' 

She  stopped  ;  he  stopped.  Holford  took  the 
wheel,  and  we  got  away.  It  was  time,  for  the 
sun  shone  after  the  storm,  and  Deborah  beneath 
the  tiles  and  the  eaves  already  felt  its  reviving 
influence  compel  her  to  her  interrupted  labours  of 
federation.  We  warned  the  village  policeman  at 
the  far  end  of  the  street  that  he  might  have  to 
suspend  traffic  again.  The  proprietor  of  the 
giddy-go-round,  swings,  and  cocoanut-shies  wanted 
to  know  from  whom,  in  this  world  or  another,  he 
could  recover  damages.      Mr.  Lingnam  referred 

2  D 


4o2     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

him  most  directly  to  Mrs.  Bellamy  ....  Then 
we  went  home. 

After  dinner  that  evening  Mr.  Lingnam  rose 
stiffly  in  his  place  to  make  a  few  remarks  on 
the  Federation  of  the  Empire  on  the  lines  of  Co- 
ordinated, Offensive  Operations,  backed  by  the 
Entire  Effective  Forces,  Moral,  Military  and 
Fiscal,  of  Permanently  Mobilised  Communities, 
the  whole  brought  to  bear,  without  any  respect  to 
the  merits  of  any  casus  belli,  instantaneously,  auto- 
matically, and  remorselessly  at  the  first  faint  buzz 
of  war. 

*  The  trouble  with  Us,'  said  he,  *  is  that  We 
take  such  an  infernally  long  time  making  sure  that 
We  are  right  that  We  don't  go  ahead  when  things 
happen.  For  instance,  /  ought  to  have  gone 
ahead  instead  of  pulling  up  when  I  hit  that 
bicycle.' 

'  But  you  were  in  the  wrong,  Lingnam,  when 
you  turned  to  the  right,'  I  put  in. 

1 1  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  of  your 
damned,  detached,  mugwumping  excuses  for  the 
other  fellow,'  he  snapped. 

'  Now  you're  beginning  to  see  things,'  said 
Penfentenyou.  '  I  hope  you  won't  backslide 
when  the  swellings  go  down.' 


THE  SONG  OF  SEVEN  CITIES 

I  was  Lord  of  Cities  very  sumptuously  builded. 
Seven  roaring  Cities  paid  me  tribute  from  afar. 
Ivory   their    outposts    were — the    guardrooms    of 

them  gilded, 
And  garrisoned  with  Amazons  invincible  in  war. 

All  the  world  went  softly  when  it  walked  before 

my  Cities — 
Neither    King    nor   Army  vexed   my  peoples  at 

their  toil. 
Never   horse   nor   chariot   irked   or   overbore  my 

Cities, 
Never    Mob    nor   Ruler   questioned  whence  they 

drew  their  spoil. 

Banded,  mailed  and  arrogant  from   sunrise  unto 
sunset, 

Singing  while  they  sacked  it,  they  possessed  the 
land  at  large. 

Yet  when   men   would   rob    them,   they   resisted, 
they  made  onset 

And  pierced  the  smoke  of  battle  with  a  thousand- 
sabred  charge  ! 

403 


4o4     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

So  they  warred  and  trafficked  only  yesterday,  my 

Cities. 
To-day  there  is  no  mark  or  mound  of  where  my 

Cities  stood. 
For   the  River  rose   at   midnight   and   it   washed 

away  my  Cities. 
They   are   evened    with    Atlantis    and  the   towns 

before  the  Flood. 

Rain  on  rain-gorged  channels  raised  the  water- 
levels  round  them, 

Freshet  backed  on  freshet  swelled  and  swept  their 
world  from  sight, 

Till  the  emboldened  floods  linked  arms  and  flashing 
forward  drowned  them — 

Drowned  my  Seven  Cities  and  their  peoples  in  one 
night ! 

Low  among  the  alders  lie  their  derelict  foundations, 
The  beams  wherein  they  trusted  and  the  plinths 

whereon  they  built — 
My   rulers   and    their   treasure  and  their  unborn 

populations, 
Dead,  destroyed,  aborted,  and  defiled  with   mud 

and  silt ! 

The  Daughters  of  the  Palace  whom  they  cherished 

in  my  Cities, 
My  silver-tongued  Princesses,  and  the  promise  of 

their  May — 
Their    bridegrooms    of   the    June-tide — all    have 

perished  in  my  Cities, 
With  the  harsh  envenomed  virgins  that  can  neither 

love  nor  play. 


THE  SONG  OF  SEVEN  CITIES    405 

I  was  Lord  of  Cities — I  will  build  anew  my  Cities, 
Seven,  set  on  rocks,  above  the  wrath  of  any  flood. 
Nor  will  I  rest  from  search  till  I  have  filled  anew 

my  Cities 
With  peoples   undefeated   of  the  dark,  enduring 

blood. 

To  the  sound  of  trumpets  shall  their  seed  restore 

my  Cities 
Wealthy  and  well-weaponed,  that  once  more  may 

I  behold 
All  the  world  go  softly  when  it  walks  before  my 

Cities, 
And  the  horses  and  the  chariots  fleeing  from  them 

as  of  old  ! 


£  Swept  and  Garnished  ' 

(January  191 5) 

When  the  first  waves  of  feverish  cold  stole  over 
Frau  Ebermann  she  very  wisely  telephoned  for 
the  doctor  and  went  to  bed.  He  diagnosed  the 
attack  as  mild  influenza,  prescribed  the  appropriate 
remedies,  and  left  her  to  the  care  of  her  one 
servant  in  her  comfortable  Berlin  flat.  Frau 
Ebermann,  beneath  the  thick  coverlet,  curled  up 
with  what  patience  she  could  until  the  aspirin 
should  begin  to  act,  and  Anna  should  come  back 
from  the  chemist  with  the  formamint,  the 
ammoniated  quinine,  the  eucalyptus,  and  the  little 
tin  steam- inhaler.  Meantime,  every  bone  in  her 
body  ached  ;  her  head  throbbed  ;  her  hot,  dry 
hands  would  not  stay  the  same  size  for  a  minute 
together  ;  and  her  body,  tucked  into  the  smallest 
possible  compass,  shrank  from  the  chill  of  the 
well-warmed  sheets. 

Of  a  sudden  she  noticed  that  an  imitation-lace 
cover  which  should  have  lain  mathematically 
square  with  the  imitation  -  marble  top  of  the 
radiator  behind  the  green  plush  sofa  had  slipped 

407 


4o8     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

away  so  that  one  corner  hung  over  the  bronze- 
painted  steam  pipes.  She  recalled  that  she  must 
have  rested  her  poor  head  against  the  radiator-top 
while  she  was  taking  off  her  boots.  She  tried  to 
get  up  and  set  the  thing  straight,  but  the  radiator 
at  once  receded  toward  the  horizon,  which,  unlike 
true  horizons,  slanted  diagonally,  exactly  parallel 
with  the  dropped  lace  edge  of  the  cover.  Frau 
Ebermann  groaned  through  sticky  lips  and  lay  still. 

'  Certainly,  I  have  a  temperature,'  she  said. 
'  Certainly,  I  have  a  grave  temperature.  I  should 
have  been  warned  by  that  chill  after  dinner.' 

She  resolved  to  shut  her  hot-lidded  eyes,  but 
opened  them  in  a  little  while  to  torture  herself 
with  the  knowledge  of  that  ungeometrical  thing 
against  the  far  wall.  Then  she  saw  a  child — an 
untidy,  thin-faced  little  girl  of  about  ten,  who 
must  have  strayed  in  from  the  adjoining  flat.  This 
proved — Frau  Ebermann  groaned  again  at  the 
way  the  world  falls  to  bits  when  one  is  sick — 
proved  that  Anna  had  forgotten  to  shut  the  outer 
door  of  the  flat  when  she  went  to  the  chemist. 
Frau  Ebermann  had  had  children  of  her  own,  but 
they  were  all  grown  up  now,  and  she  had  never 
been  a  child-lover  in  any  sense.  Yet  the  intruder 
might  be  made  to  serve  her  scheme  of  things. 

'Make — put,'  she  muttered  thickly,  'that 
white  thing  straight  on  the  top  of  that  yellow 
thing.' 

The  child  paid  no  attention,  but  moved  about 
the  room,  investigating  everything  that  came  in 
her  way  — -  the  yellow  cut-glass  handles  of  the 
chest   of  drawers,   the   stamped    bronze    hook   to 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'       409 

hold  back  the  heavy  puce  curtains,  and  the  mauve 
enamel,  New  Art  finger-plates  on  the  door.  Frau 
Ebermann  watched  indignantly. 

'  Aie  !  That  is  bad  and  rude.  Go  away  !  ' 
she  cried,  though  it  hurt  her  to  raise  her  voice. 
'  Go  away  by  the  road  you  came ! '  The  child 
passed  behind  the  bed-foot,  where  she  could  not 
see  her.  '  Shut  the  door  as  you  go.  I  will  speak 
to  Anna,  but — first,  put  that  white  thing  straight.' 

She  closed  her  eyes  in  misery  of  body  and  soul. 
The  outer  door  clicked,  and  Anna  entered,  very 
penitent  that  she  had  stayed  so  long  at  the 
chemist's.  But  it  had  been  difficult  to  find  the 
proper  type  of  inhaler,  and 

'  Where  did  the  child  go  ? '  moaned  Frau 
Ebermann — '  the  child  that  was  here  ? ' 

'  There  was  no  child,'  said  startled  Anna. 
'  How  should  any  child  come  in  when  I  shut  the 
door  behind  me  after  I  go  out  ?  All  the  keys  of 
the  flats  are  different.' 

1  No,  no !  You  forgot  this  time.  But  my  back 
is  aching,  and  up  my  legs  also.  Besides,  who 
knows  what  it  may  have  fingered  and  upset? 
Look  and  see.' 

'  Nothing  is  fingered,  nothing  is  upset,'  Anna 
replied,  as  she  took  the  inhaler  from  its  paper  box. 

4  Yes,  there  is.  Now  I  remember  all  about  it. 
Put — put  that  white  thing,  with  the  open  edge — 

the  lace,  I  mean — quite  straight  on  that '  she 

pointed.  Anna,  accustomed  to  her  ways,  under- 
stood and  went  to  it. 

'  Now,  is  it  quite  straight  ?  '  Frau  Ebermann 
demanded. 


4io     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Perfectly,'  said  Anna.  '  In  fact,  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  radiator.'  Anna  measured  the  equal 
margins  with  her  knuckle,  as  she  had  been  told  to 
do  when  she  first  took  service. 

'  And  my  tortoise-shell  hair  brushes  ? '  Frau 
Ebermann  could  not  command  her  dressing-table 
from  where  she  lay. 

*  Perfectly  straight,  side  by  side  in  the  big  tray, 
and  the  comb  laid  across  them.  Your  watch  also 
in  the  coralline  watch  -  holder.  Everything  ' — 
she  moved  round  the  room  to  make  sure — '  every- 
thing is  as  you  have  it  when  you  are  well.'  Frau 
Ebermann  sighed  with  relief.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  the  room  and  her  head  had  suddenly  grown 
cooler. 

'  Good  ! '  said  she.  '  Now  warm  my  nightgown 
in  the  kitchen,  so  it  will  be  ready  when  I  have 
perspired.  And  the  towels  also.  Make  the  inhaler 
steam,  and  put  in  the  eucalyptus  ;  that  is  good 
for  the  larynx.  Then  sit  you  in  the  kitchen,  and 
come  when  I  ring.     But,  first,  my  hot-water  bottle.' 

It  was  brought  and  scientifically  tucked  in. 

'  What  news  ? '  said  Frau  Ebermann  drowsily. 
She  had  not  been  out  that  day. 

'  Another  victory,'  said  Anna.  *  Many  more 
prisoners  and  guns.' 

Frau  Ebermann  purred,  one  might  almost 
say  grunted,  contentedly. 

'  That  is  good  too,'  she  said  ;  and  Anna,  after 
lighting  the  inhaler-lamp,  went  out. 

Frau, Ebermann  reflected  that  in  an  hour  or  so 
the  aspirin  would  begin  to  work,  and  all  would  be 
well.     To-morrow — no,  the  day  after — she  would 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'       411 

take  up  life  with  something  to  talk  over  with  her 
friends  at  coffee.  It  was  rare — every  one  knew  it 
— that  she  should  be  overcome  by  any  ailment. 
Yet  in  all  her  distresses  she  had  not  allowed  the 
minutest  deviation  from  daily  routine  and  ritual. 
She  would  tell  her  friends — she  ran  over  their 
names  one  by  one — exactly  what  measures  she 
had  taken  against  the  lace  cover  on  the  radiator- 
top  and  in  regard  to  her  two  tortoise-shell  hair- 
brushes and  the  comb  at  right  angles.  How  she 
had  set  everything  in  order — everything  in  order. 
She  roved  further  afield  as  she  wriggled  her  toes 
luxuriously  on  the  hot-water  bottle.  If  it  pleased 
our  dear  God  to  take  her  to  Himself,  and  she 
was  not  so  young  as  she  had  been — there  was  that 
plate  of  the  four  lower  ones  in  the  blue  tooth-glass, 
for  instance — He  should  find  all  her  belongings 
fit  to  meet  His  eye.  '  Swept  and  garnished  '  were 
the  words  that  shaped  themselves  in  her  intent 
brain.     '  Swept  and  garnished  for ' 

No,  it  was  certainly  not  for  the  dear  Lord  that 
she  had  swept ;  she  would  have  her  room  swept 
out  to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  and  garnished. 
Her  hands  began  to  swell  again  into  huge  pillows 
of  nothingness.  Then  they  shrank,  and  so  did 
her  head,  to  minute  dots.  It  occurred  to  her  that 
she  was  waiting  for  some  event,  some  tremendously 
important  event,  to  come  to  pass.  She  lay  with 
shut  eyes  for  a  long  time  till  her  head  and  hands 
should  return  to  their  proper  size. 

She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  jerk. 

'  How  stupid  of  me,'  she  said  aloud,  '  to  set  the 
room  in  order  for  a  parcel  of  dirty  little  children ! ' 


4i2     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

They  were  there — five  of  them,  two  little  boys 
and  three  girls — headed  by  the  anxious-eyed  ten- 
year-old  whom  she  had  seen  before.  They  must 
have  entered  by  the  outer  door,  which  Anna  had 
neglected  to  shut  behind  her  when  she  returned 
with  the  inhaler.  She  counted  them  backward 
and  forward  as  one  counts  scales — one,  two,  three, 
four,  five. 

They  took  no  notice  of  her,. but  hung  about, 
first  on  one  foot  then  on  the  other,  like  strayed 
chickens,  the  smaller  ones  holding  by  the  larger. 
They  had  the  air  of  utterly  wearied  passengers  in 
a  railway  waiting-room,  and  their  clothes  were 
disgracefully  dirty. 

'  Go  away  ! '  cried  Frau  Ebermann  at  last,  after 
she  had  struggled,  it  seemed  to  her,  for  years  to 
shape  the  words. 

1  You  called  ? '  said  Anna  at  the  living-room 
door. 

'  No,'  said  her  mistress.  '  Did  you  shut  the 
flat  door  when  you  came  in  ? ' 

*  Assuredly,'  said  Anna.  '  Besides,  it  is  made 
to  catch  shut  of  itself.' 

*  Then  go  away,'  said  she,  very  little  above  a 
whisper.  If  Anna  pretended  not  to  see  the 
children,  she  would  speak  to  Anna  later  on. 

*  And  now,'  she  said,  turning  toward  them  as 
soon  as  the  door  closed.  The  smallest  of  the 
crowd  smiled  at  her,  and  shook  his  head  before  he 
buried  it  in  his  sister's  skirts. 

'  Why  —  don't  —  you  —  go  —  away  ?  '  she 
whispered  earnestly. 

Again  they  took  no  notice,  but,  guided  by  the 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'       413 

elder  girl,  set  themselves  to  climb,  boots  and  all, 
on  to  the  green  plush  sofa  in  front  of  the  radiator. 
The  little  boys  had  to  be  pushed,  as  they  could 
not  compass  the  stretch  unaided.  They  settled 
themselves  in  a  row,  with  small  gasps  of  relief, 
and  pawed  the  plush  approvingly. 

'  I  ask  you — I  ask  you  why  do  you  not  go 
away — why  do  you  not  go  away  ? '  Frau  Eber- 
mann  found  herself  repeating  the  question  twenty 
times.  It  seemed  to  her  that  everything  in  the 
world  hung  on  the  answer.  '  You  know  you 
should  not  come  into  houses  and  rooms  unless 
you  are  invited.  Not  houses  and  bedrooms,  you 
know.' 

'  No,'  a  solemn  little  six-year-old  repeated, 
'  not  houses  nor  bedrooms,  nor  dining-rooms,  nor 
churches,  nor  all  those  places.  Shouldn't  come  in. 
It's  rude.' 

'Yes,  he  said  so,'  the  younger  girl  put  in 
proudly.  '  He  said  it.  He  told  them  only  pigs 
would  do  that.'  The  line  nodded  and  dimpled 
one  to  another  with  little  explosive  giggles,  such 
as  children  use  when  they  tell  deeds  of  great  daring 
against  their  elders. 

'  If  you  know  it  is  wrong,  that  makes  it  much 
worse,'  said  Frau  Ebermann. 

1  Oh  yes  ;  much  worse,'  they  assented  cheer- 
fully, till  the  smallest  boy  changed  his  smile  to  a 
baby  wail  of  weariness. 

'  When  will  they  come  for  us  ? '  he  asked,  and 
the  girl  at  the  head  of  the  row  hauled  him  bodily 
into  her  square  little  capable  lap. 

1  He's  tired,'  she  explained.      '  He  is  only  four. 


4H     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

He  only  had  his  first  breeches  this  spring.'  They 
came  almost  under  his  armpits,  and  were  held  up 
by  broad  linen  braces,  which,  his  sorrow  diverted 
for  the  moment,  he  patted  proudly. 

'  Yes,  beautiful,  dear,'  said  both  girls. 

'  Go  away  !  '  said  Frau  Ebermann.  '  Go  home 
to  your  father  and  mother  !  ' 

Their  faces  grew  grave  at  once. 

'  H'sh !  We  canty  whispered  the  eldest. 
*  There  isn't  anything  left.' 

*  All  gone,'  a  boy  echoed,  and  he  puffed 
through  pursed  lips.  '  Like  that,  uncle  told  me. 
Both  cows  too.' 

*  And  my  own  three  ducks,'  the  boy  on  the 
girl's  lap  said  sleepily. 

'  So,  you  see,  we  came  here.'  The  elder  girl 
leaned  forward  a  little,  caressing  the  child  she  rocked. 

'  I — I  don't  understand,'  said  Frau  Ebermann. 
'  Are  you  lost,  then  ?     You  must  tell  our  police.' 

'  Oh  no  ;  we  are  only  waiting.' 

'  But  what  are  you  waiting  for  ? ' 

'  We  are  waiting  for  our  people  to  come  for 
us.  They  told  us  to  come  here  and  wait  for  them. 
So  we  are  waiting  till  they  come,'  the  eldest  girl 
replied. 

'  Yes.  We  are  waiting  till  our  people  come 
for  us,'  said  all  the  others  in  chorus. 

'  But,'  said  Frau  Ebermann  very  patiently — 
'  but  now  tell  me,  for  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not  in 
the  least  angry,  where  do  you  come  from  ?  Where 
do  you  pome  from  ? ' 

The  five  gave  the  names  of  two  villages  of 
which  she  had  read  in  the  papers. 


SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED' 


4i5 


1  That  is  silly,'  said  Frau  Ebermann.  '  The 
people  fired  on  us,  and  they  were  punished. 
Those  places  are  wiped  out.  stamped  flat.' 

'  Yes,  yes,  wiped  out,  stamped  flat.  That  is 
why  and — I  have  lost  the  ribbon  off  my  pigtail,' 
said  the  younger  girl.  She  looked  behind  her 
over  the  sofa-back. 

'  It  is  not  here,'  said  the  elder.  '  It  was  lost 
before.      Don't  you  remember  ?  ' 

'  Now,  if  you  are  lost,  you  must  go  and  tell 
our  police.  They  will  take  care  of  you  and  give 
you  food,'  said  Frau  Ebermann.  '  Anna  will 
show  you  the  way  there.' 

'  No,'  —  this  was  the  six-year-old  with  the 
smile, — '  we  must  wait  here  till  our  people  come 
for  us.      Mustn't  we,  sister  ? ' 

'  Of  course.  We  wait  here  till  our  people  come 
for  us.  All  the  world  knows  that,'  said  the  eldest 
girl. 

'  Yes.'  The  boy  in  her  lap  had  waked  again. 
c  Little  children,  too — as  little  as  Henri,  and  he 
doesn't  wear  trousers  yet.     As  little  as  all  that.' 

'I  don't  understand,'  said  Frau  Ebermann, 
shivering.  In  spite  of  the  heat  of  the  room  and 
the  damp  breath  of  the  steam-inhaler,  the  aspirin 
was  not  doing  its  duty. 

The  girl  raised  her  blue  eyes  and  looked  at 
the  woman  for  an  instant. 

•  You  see,'  she  said,  emphasising  her  statements 
with  her  fingers,  '  they  told  us  to  wait  here  till  our 
people  came  for  us.  So  we  came.  We  wait  till 
our  people  come  for  us.' 

'  That  is  silly  again,'  said  Frau  Ebermann.     l  It 


4i 6     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

is  no  good  for  you  to  wait  here.  Do  you  know 
what  this  place  is  ?  You  have  been  to  school  r 
It  is  Berlin,  the  capital  of  Germany.' 

4  Yes,  yes,'  they  all  cried  ;  '  Berlin,  capital  of 
Germany.     We  know  that.    That  is  why  we  came.' 

'So,  you  see,  it  is  no  good,'  she  said  triumphantly, 
'  because  your  people  can  never  come  for  you  here.' 

1  They  told  us  to  come  here  and  wait  till  our 
people  came  for  us.'  They  delivered  this  as  if 
it  were  a  lesson  in  school.  Then  they  sat  still, 
their  hands  orderly  folded  on  their  laps,  smiling 
as  sweetly  as  ever. 

'  Go  away  !  Go  away  !  '  Frau  Ebermann 
shrieked. 

'  You  called  ? '  said  Anna,  entering. 

'  No.     Go  away  !     Go  away  ! ' 

'  Very  good,  old  cat,'  said  the  maid  under  her 
breath.  •  Next  time  you  may  call,'  and  she  re- 
turned to  her  friend  in  the  kitchen. 

c  I  ask  you — ask  you,  please  to  go  away,'  Frau 
Ebermann  pleaded.  '  Go  to  my  Anna  through 
that  door,  and  she  will  give  you  cakes  and  sweeties. 
It  is  not  kind  of  you  to  come  into  my  room  and 
behave  so  badly.' 

'  Where  else  shall  we  go  now  ? '  the  elder  girl 
demanded,  turning  to  her  little  company.  They 
fell  into  discussion.  One  preferred  the  broad 
street  with  trees,  another  the  railway  station  ;  but 
when  she  suggested  an  Emperor's  palace,  they 
agreed  with  her. 

'  We  will  go  then,'  she  said,  and  added  half 
apologetically  to  Frau  Ebermann,  *  You  see,  they 
are  so  little  they  like  to  meet  all  the  others.' 


4 SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'       417 

'  What  others  ? '  said  Frau  Ebermann. 

'  The  others  —  hundreds  and  hundreds  and 
thousands  and  thousands  of  the  others.' 

'  That  is  a  lie.  There  cannot  be  a  hundred 
even,  much  less  a  thousand,'  cried  Frau  Ebermann. 

*  So  ? '  said  the  girl  politely. 

*  Yes.  /  tell  you  ;  and  I  have  very  good 
information.  I  know  how  it  happened.  You 
should  have  been  more  careful.  You  should  not 
have  run  out  to  see  the  horses  and  guns  passing. 
That  is  how  it  is  done  when  our  troops  pass 
through.      My  son  has  written  me  so.' 

They  had  clambered  down  from  the  sofa,  and 
gathered  round  the  bed  with  eager,  interested  eyes. 

'  Horses  and  guns  going  by — how  fine  !  '  some 
one  whispered. 

'  Yes,  yes  ;  believe  me,  that  is  how  the  accidents 
to  the  children  happen.  You  must  know  yourself 
that  it  is  true.     One  runs  out  to  look ' 

'  But  I  never  saw  any  at  all,'  a  boy  cried  sorrow- 
fully. 'Only  one  noise  I  heard.  That  was  when 
Aunt  Emmeline's  house  fell  down.' 

'But  listen  to  me.  /  am  telling  you!  One 
runs  out  to  look,  because  one  is  little  and  cannot 
see  well.  So  one  peeps  between  the  man's  legs, 
and  then — you  know  how  close  those  big  horses 
and  guns  turn  the  corners — then  one's  foot  slips 
and  one  gets  run  over.  That's  how  it  happens. 
Several  times  it  had  happened,  but  not  many  times  ; 
certainly  not  a  hundred,  perhaps  not  twenty.  So, 
you  see,  you  must  be  all.  Tell  me  now  that  you 
are  all  that  there  are,  and  Anna  shall  give  you  the 
cakes.' 

2  E 


4i 8     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Thousands,'  a  boy  repeated  monotonously. 
c  Then  we  all  come  here  to  wait  till  our  people 
come  for  us.' 

*  But  now  we  will  go  away  from  here.  The 
poor  lady  is  tired,'  said  the  elder  girl,  plucking  his 
sleeve. 

'  Oh,  you  hurt,  you  hurt  !  '  he  cried,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

'  What  is  that  for  ? '  said  Frau  Ebermann. 
'  To  cry  in  a  room  where  a  poor  lady  is  sick,  is 
very  inconsiderate.' 

*  Oh,  but  look,  lady  ! '  said  the  elder  girl. 
Frau  Ebermann  looked  and  saw. 

*  Au  revoir,  lady.'  They  made  their  little 
smiling  bows  and  curtseys  undisturbed  by  her  loud 
cries.  '  Au  revoir>  lady.  We  will  wait  till  our 
people  come  for  us.' 

When  Anna  at  last  ran  in,  she  found  her 
mistress  on  her  knees,  busily  cleaning  the  floor 
with  the  lace  cover  from  the  radiator,  because,  she 
explained,  it  was  all  spotted  with  the  blood  of  five 
children  —  she  was  perfectly  certain  there  could 
not  be  more  than  five  in  the  whole  world — who 
had  gone  away  for  the  moment,  but  were  now 
waiting  round  the  corner,  and  Anna  was  to  find 
them  and  give  them  cakes  to  stop  the  bleeding, 
while  her  mistress  swept  and  garnished  that  Our 
dear  Lord  when  He  came  might  find  everything 
as  it  should  be. 


Mary  Postgate 
(1915) 

Of  Miss  Mary  Postgate,  Lady  McCausland  wrote 
that  she  was  *  thoroughly  conscientious,  tidy, 
companionable,  and  ladylike.  I  am  very  sorry  to 
part  with  her,  and  shall  always  be  interested  in 
her  welfare.' 

Miss  Fowler  engaged  her  on  this  recommenda- 
tion, and  to  her  surprise,  for  she  had  had  experience 
of  companions,  found  that  it  was  true.  Miss 
Fowler  was  nearer  sixty  than  fifty  at  the  time,  but 
though  she  needed  care  she  did  not  exhaust  her 
attendant's  vitality.  On  the  contrary,  she  gave 
out,  stimulatingly  and  with  reminiscences.  Her 
father  had  been  a  minor  Court  official  in  the  days 
when  the  Great  Exhibition  of  1851  had  just  set  its 
seal  on  Civilisation  made  perfect.  Some  of  Miss 
Fowler's  tales,  none  the  less,  were  not  always  for 
the  young.  Mary  was  not  young,  and  though  her 
speech  was  as  colourless  as  her  eyes  or  her  hair, 
she  was  never  shocked.  She  listened  unflinchingly 
to  every  one  ;  said  at  the  end,  '  How  interesting  ! ' 
or   '  How  shocking  ! '    as  the  case  might  be,  and 

419 


42o     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

never  again  referred  to  it,  for  she  prided  herself 
on  a  trained  mind,  which  '  did  not  dwell  on  these 
things.'  She  was,  too,  a  treasure  at  domestic 
accounts,  for  which  the  village  tradesmen,  with 
their  weekly  books,  loved  her  not.  Otherwise 
she  had  no  enemies  ;  provoked  no  jealousy  even 
among  the  plainest  ;  neither  gossip  nor  slander 
had  ever  been  traced  to  her  ;  she  supplied  the 
odd  place  at  the  Rector's  or  the  Doctor's  table 
at  half  an  hour's  notice  ;  she  was  a  sort  of 
public  aunt  to  very  many  small  children  of  the 
village  street,  whose  parents,  while  accepting 
everything,  would  have  been  swift  to  resent 
what  they  called  '  patronage '  ;  she  served  on  the 
Village  Nursing  Committee  as  Miss  Fowler's 
nominee  when  Miss  Fowler  was  crippled  by 
rheumatoid  arthritis,  and  came  out  of  six  months' 
fortnightly  meetings  equally  respected  by  all  the 
cliques. 

And  when  Fate  threw  Miss  Fowler's  nephew, 
an  unlovely  orphan  of  eleven,  on  Miss  Fowler's 
hands,  Mary  Postgate  stood  to  her  share  of  the 
business  of  education  as  practised  in  private  and 
public  schools.  She  checked  printed  clothes-lists, 
and  unitemised  bills  of  extras  ;  wrote  to  Head  and 
House  masters,  matrons,  nurses  and  doctors,  and 
grieved  or  rejoiced  over  half-term  reports.  Young 
Wyndham  Fowler  repaid  her  in  his  holidays  by 
calling  her  '  Gatepost,'  *  Postey,'  or  '  Packthread,' 
by  thumping  her  between  her  narrow  shoulders,  or 
by  chasing  her  bleating,  round  the  garden,  her 
large  mouth  open,  her  large  nose  high  in  air,  at  a 
stiff-necked  shamble  very  like  a  camel's.     Later 


MARY  POSTGATE  421 

on  he  filled  the  house  with  clamour,  argument, 
and  harangues  as  to  his  personal  needs,  likes  and 
dislikes,  and  the  limitations  of  '  you  women,' 
reducing  Mary  to  tears  of  physical  fatigue,  or, 
when  he  chose  to  be  humorous,  of  helpless  laughter. 
At  crises,  which  multiplied  as  he  grew  older,  she 
was  his  ambassadress  and  his  interpretress  to  Miss 
Fowler,  who  had  no  large  sympathy  with  the 
young  ;  a  vote  in  his  interest  at  the  councils  on 
his  future  ;  his  sewing-woman,  strictly  accountable 
for  mislaid  boots  and  garments  ;  always  his  butt 
and  his  slave. 

And  when  he  decided  to  become  a  solicitor, 
and  had  entered  an  office  in  London  ;  when  his 
greeting  had  changed  from  '  Hullo,  Postey,  you 
old  beast,'  to  '  Mornin',  Packthread,'  there  came  a 
war  which,  unlike  all  wars  that  Mary  could  re- 
member, did  not  stay  decently  outside  England 
and  in  the  newspapers,  but  intruded  on  the  lives 
of  people  whom  she  knew.  As  she  said  to  Miss 
Fowler,  it  was  '  most  vexatious.'  It  took  the 
Rector's  son  who  was  going  into  business  with  his 
elder  brother  ;  it  took  the  Colonel's  nephew  on 
the  eve  of  fruit-farming  in  Canada  ;  it  took  Mrs. 
Grant's  son  who,  his  mother  said,  was  devoted  to 
the  ministry ;  and,  very  early  indeed,  it  took 
Wynn  Fowler,  who  announced  on  a  postcard  that 
he  had  joined  the  Flying  Corps  and  wanted  a 
cardigan  waistcoat. 

*  He  must  go,  and  he  must  have  the  waistcoat,' 
said  Miss  Fowler.  So  Mary  got  the  proper-sized 
needles  and  wool,  while  Miss  Fowler  told  the  men 
of  her  establishment — two  gardeners  and  an  odd 


422     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

man,  aged  sixty — that  those  who  could  join  the 
Army  had  better  do  so.  The  gardeners  left. 
Cheape,  the  odd  man,  stayed  on,  and  was  promoted 
to  the  gardener's  cottage.  The  cook,  scorning  to 
be  limited  in  luxuries,  also  left,  after  a  spirited 
scene  with  Miss  Fowler,  and  took  the  housemaid 
with  her.  Miss  Fowler  gazetted  Nellie,  Cheape's 
seventeen-year-old  daughter,  to  the  vacant  post  ; 
Mrs.  Cheape  to  the  rank  of  cook,  with  occasional 
cleaning  bouts  ;  and  the  reduced  establishment 
moved  forward  smoothly. 

Wynn  demanded  an  increase  in  his  allowance. 
Miss  Fowler,  who  always  looked  facts  in  the  face, 
said,  '  He  must  have  it.  The  chances  are  he 
won't  live  long  to  draw  it,  and  if  three  hundred 
makes  him  happy ' 

Wynn  was  grateful,  and  came  over,  in  his 
tight-buttoned  uniform,  to  say  so.  His  training 
centre  was  not  thirty  miles  away,  and  his  talk  was 
so  technical  that  it  had  to  be  explained  by  charts 
of  the  various  types  of  machines.  He  gave  Mary 
such  a  chart. 

'And  you'd  better  study  it,  Postey,'  he  said. 
'  You'll  be  seeing  a  lot  of  'em  soon.'  So  Mary 
studied  the  chart,  but  when  Wynn  next  arrived  to 
swell  and  exalt  himself  before  his  womenfolk,  she 
failed  badly  in  cross-examination,  and  he  rated  her 
as  in  the  old  days. 

1  You  look  more  or  less  like  a  human  being,'  he 
said  in  his  new  Service  voice.  c  You  must  have 
had  a  brain  at  some  time  in  your  past.  What 
have  you  done  with  it  ?  Where  d'you  keep  it  ? 
A  sheep  would  know  more  than  you  do,  Postey. 


MARY  POSTGATE  423 

You're  lamentable.  You  are  less  use  than  an 
empty  tin  can,  you  dowey  old  cassowary.' 

c  I  suppose  that's  how  your  superior  officer  talks 
to  you  ?'  said  Miss  Fowler  from  her  chair. 

'  But  Postey  doesn't  mind,'  Wynn  replied. 
'  Do  you,  Packthread  ? ' 

*  Why  ?  Was  Wynn  saying  anything  ?  I 
shall  get  this  right  next  time  you  come,'  she  mut- 
tered, and  knitted  her  pale  brows  again  over  the 
diagrams  of  Taubes,  Farmans,  and  Zeppelins. 

In  a  few  weeks  the  mere  land  and  sea  battles 
which  she  read  to  Miss  Fowler  after  breakfast 
passed  her  like  idle  breath.  Her  heart  and  her 
interest  were  high  in  the  air  with  Wynn,  who  had 
finished  '  rolling '  (whatever  that  might  be)  and 
had  gone  on  from  a  '  taxi '  to  a  machine  more  or 
less  his  own.  One  morning  it  circled  over  their 
very  chimneys,  alighted  on  Vegg's  Heath,  almost 
outside  the  garden  gate,  and  Wynn  came  in,  blue 
with  cold,  shouting  for  food.  He  and  she  drew 
Miss  Fowler's  bath-chair,  as  they  had  often  done, 
along  the  Heath  foot-path  to  look  at  the  biplane. 
Mary  observed  that  '  it  smelt  very  badly.' 

*  Postey,  I  believe  you  think  with  your  nose,' 
said  Wynn.  '  I  know  you  don't  with  your  mind. 
Now,  what  type's  that  ? ' 

'  I'll  go  and  get  the  chart,'  said  Mary. 

*  You're  hopeless  !  You  haven't  the  mental 
capacity  of  a  white  mouse,'  he  cried,  and  explained 
the  dials  and  the  sockets  for  bomb-dropping  till  it 
was  time  to  mount  and  ride  the  wet  clouds  once 
more. 

'  Ah  ! '  said  Mary,  as  the  stinking  thing  flared 


424     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

upward.  '  Wait  till  our  Flying  Corps  gets  to 
work  !  Wynn  says  it's  much  safer  than  in  the 
trenches.' 

'  I  wonder,'  said  Miss  Fowler.  '  Tell  Cheape 
to  come  and  tow  me  home  again.' 

'  It's  all  downhill.  I  can  do  it,'  said  Mary, 
'  if  you  put  the  brake  on.'  She  laid  her  lean 
self  against  the  pushing- bar  and  home  they 
trundled. 

'  Now,  be  careful  you  aren't  heated  and  catch 
a  chill,'  said  overdressed  Miss  Fowler. 

'  Nothing  makes  me  perspire,'  said  Mary.  As 
she  bumped  the  chair  under  the  porch  she 
straightened  her  long  back.  The  exertion  had 
given  her  a  colour,  and  the  wind  had  loosened 
a  wisp  of  hair  across  her  forehead.  Miss  Fowler 
glanced  at  her. 

'  What  do  you  ever  think  of,  Mary  ?  '  she 
demanded  suddenly. 

'  Oh,  Wynn  says  he  wants  another  three  pairs 
of  stockings — as  thick  as  we  can  make  them.' 

'  Yes.  But  I  mean  the  things  that  women 
think  about.  Here  you  are,  more  than 
forty ' 

'  Forty-four,'  said  truthful  Mary. 

'  Well  ? 

'  Well  ? '  Mary  offered  Miss  Fowler  her 
shoulder  as  usual. 

'And  you've  been  with  me  ten  years  now.' 

'  Let's  see,'  said  Mary.  '  Wynn  was  eleven 
when  he-  came.  He's  twenty  now,  and  I  came 
two  years  before  that.     It  must  be  eleven.' 

*  Eleven  !     And  you've  never  told  me  anything 


MARY  POSTGATE  425 

that  matters  in  all  that  while.  Looking  back,  it 
seems  to  me  that  /'ve  done  all  the  talking.' 

'  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  much  of  a  conversationalist. 
As  Wynn  says,  I  haven't  the  mind.  Let  me  take 
your  hat.' 

Miss  Fowler,  moving  stiffly  from  the  hip, 
stamped  her  rubber-tipped  stick  on  the  tiled 
hall  floor.  '  Mary,  aren't  you  anything  except  a 
companion  ?  Would  you  ever  have  been  anything 
except  a  companion  ?  ' 

Mary  hung  up  the  garden  hat  on  its  proper 
peg.  '  No,'  she  said  after  consideration.  *  I  don't 
imagine  I  ever  should.  But  I've  no  imagination, 
I'm  afraid.' 

She  fetched  Miss  Fowler  her  eleven -o'clock 
glass  of  Contrexeville0 

That  was  the  wet  December  when  it  rained  six 
inches  to  the  month,  and  the  women  went  abroad 
as  little  as  might  be.  Wynn's  flying  chariot 
visited  them  several  times,  and  for  two  mornings 
(he  had  warned  her  by  postcard)  Mary  heard  the 
thresh  of  his  propellers  at  dawn.  The  second  time 
she  ran  to  the  window,  and  stared  at  the  whiten- 
ing sky.  A  little  blur  passed  overhead.  She 
lifted  her  lean  arms  towards  it. 

That  evening  at  six  o'clock  there  came  an 
announcement  in  an  official  envelope  that  Second 
Lieutenant  W.  Fowler  had  been  killed  during  a 
trial  flight.  Death  was  instantaneous.  She  read 
it  and  carried  it  to  Miss  Fowler. 

'  I  never  expected  anything  else,'  said  Miss 
Fowler  ;  '  but  I'm  sorry  it  happened  before  he 
had  done  anything.' 


426     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

The  room  was  whirling  round  Mary  Postgate, 
but  she  found  herself  quite  steady  in  the  midst  of  it. 

'  Yes,'  she  said.  '  It's  a  great  pity  he  didn't 
die  in  action  after  he  had  killed  somebody.' 

'  He  was  killed  instantly.  That's  one  comfort,' 
Miss  Fowler  went  on. 

'  But  Wynn  says  the  shock  of  a  fall  kills  a  man 
at  once — whatever  happens  to  the  tanks,'  quoted 
Mary. 

The  room  was  coming  to  rest  now.  She  heard 
Miss  Fowler  say  impatiently,  '  But  why  can't 
we  cry,  Mary  ? '  and  herself  replying,  '  There's 
nothing  to  cry  for.  He  has  done  his  duty  as  much 
as  Mrs.  Grant's  son  did.' 

c  And  when  he  died,  she  came  and  cried  all  the 
morning,'  said  Miss  Fowler.  '  This  only  makes 
me  feel  tired — terribly  tired.  Will  you  help  me 
to  bed,  please,  Mary  ? — And  I  think  I'd  like  the 
hot-water  bottle.' 

So  Mary  helped  her  and  sat  beside,  talking  of 
Wynn  in  his  riotous  youth. 

'  I  believe,'  said  Miss  Fowler  suddenly,  c  that 
old  people  and.  young  people  slip  from  under  a 
stroke  like  this.     The  middle-aged  feel  it  most.' 

'  I  expect  that's  true,'  said  Mary,  rising.  '  I'm 
going  to  put  away  the  things  in  his  room  now. 
Shall  we  wear  mourning  ? ' 

'  Certainly  not,'  said  Miss  Fowler.  •  Except,  of 
course,  at  the  funeral.  I  can't  go.  You  will.  I 
want  you  to  arrange  about  his  being  buried  here. 
What  a  blessing  it  didn't  happen  at  Salisbury  !  ' 

Every  one,  from  the  Authorities  of  the  Flying 
Corps  to  the  Rector,  was  most  kind  and  sympathetic. 


MARY  POSTGATE  427 

Mary  found  herself  for  the  moment  in  a  world 
where  bodies  were  in  the  habit  of  being  despatched 
by  all  sorts  of  conveyances  to  all  sorts  of  places. 
And  at  the  funeral  two  young  men  in  buttoned-up 
uniforms  stood  beside  the  grave  and  spoke  to  her 
afterwards. 

*  You're  Miss  Postgate,  aren't  you  ? '  said  one. 
'  Fowler  told  me  about  you.  He  was  a  good 
chap — a  first-class  fellow — a  great  loss.' 

'  Great  loss  !  '  growled  his  companion.  '  We're 
all  awfully  sorry.' 

*  How  high  did  he  fall  from  ? '  Mary  whispered. 

*  Pretty  nearly  four  thousand  feet,  I  should  think, 
didn't  he  ?     You  were  up  that  day,  Monkey  ?  ' 

'  All  of  that,'  the  other  child  replied.  '  My  bar 
made  three  thousand,  and  I  wasn't  as  high  as  him 
by  a  lot.' 

1  Then  that' s  all  right,'  said  Mary.  '  Thank 
you  very  much.' 

They  moved  away  as  Mrs.  Grant  flung  herself 
weeping  on  Mary's  flat  chest,  under  the  lych-gate, 
and  cried,  *  /  know  how  it  feels !  I  know  how 
it  feels ! ' 

'  But  both  his  parents  are  dead,'  Mary  returned, 
as  she  fended  her  off.  *  Perhaps  they've  all  met 
by  now,'  she  added  vaguely  as  she  escaped  towards 
the  coach. 

*  I've  thought  of  that  too,'  wailed  Mrs.  Grant  ; 
'  but  then  he'll  be  practically  a  stranger  to  them. 
Quite  embarrassing ! ' 

Mary  faithfully  reported  every  detail  of 
the  ceremony  to  Miss  Fowler,  who,  when  she 
described  Mrs.  Grant's  outburst,  laughed  aloud. 


428     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'  Oh,  how  Wynn  would  have  enjoyed  it !  He 
was  always  utterly  unreliable  at  funerals.     D'you 

remember '     And  they  talked  of  him  again, 

each  piecing  out  the  other's  gaps.  '  And  now,' 
said  Miss  Fowler,  '  we'll  pull  up  the  blinds  and 
we'll  have  a  general  tidy.  That  always  does  us 
good.      Have  you  seen  to  Wynn's  things  ?  ' 

'  Everything — since  he  first  came,'  said  Mary. 
'  He  was  never  destructive — even  with  his  toys.' 

They  faced  that  neat  room. 

'  It  can't  be  natural  not  to  cry,'  Mary  said 
at  last.      '  I'm  so  afraid  you'll  have  a  reaction.' 

'As  I  told  you,  we  old  people  slip  from  under 
the  stroke.  It's  you  I'm  afraid  for.  Have  you 
cried  yet  ? ' 

'  I  can't.  It  only  makes  me  angry  with  the 
Germans.' 

1  That's  sheer  waste  of  vitality,'  said  Miss 
Fowler.  '  We  must  live  till  the  war's  finished.' 
She  opened  a  full  wardrobe.  '  Now,  I've  been 
thinking  things  over.  This  is  my  plan.  All  his 
civilian  clothes  can  be  given  away — Belgian  refugees, 
and  so  on.' 

Mary  nodded.     '  Boots,  collars,  and  gloves  ?  ' 

*  Yes.  We  don't  need  to  keep  anything  except 
his  cap  and  belt.' 

*  They  came  back  yesterday  with  his  Flying 
Corps  clothes ' — Mary  pointed  to  a  roll  on  the 
little  iron  bed. 

*  Ah,  but  keep  his  Service  things.  Some  one 
may  be  glad  of  them  later.  Do  you  remember 
his  sizes  ? ' 

*  Five  feet  eight  and  a  half ;  thirty-six  inches 


MARY  POSTGATE  429 

round  the  chest.  But  he  told  me  he's  just  put  on 
an  inch  and  a  half.  I'll  mark  it  on  a  label  and  tie 
it  on  his  sleeping-bag.' 

'  So  that  disposes  of  that,'  said  Miss  Fowler, 
tapping  the  palm  of  one  hand  with  the  ringed 
third  finger  of  the  other.  *  What  waste  it  all  is  ! 
We'll  get  his  old  school  trunk  to-morrow  and 
pack  his  civilian  clothes.' 

'  And  the  rest  ? '  said  Mary.  '  His  books  and 
pictures  and  the  games  and  the  toys — and — and 
the  rest  ? ' 

1  My  plan  is  to  burn  every  single  thing,'  said 
Miss  Fowler.  '  Then  we  shall  know  where  they 
are  and  no  one  can  handle  them  afterwards.  What 
do  you  think  ? ' 

1  i  think  that  would  be  much  the  best,'  said 
Mary.     '  But  there's  such  a  lot  of  them.' 

'  We'll  burn  them  in  the  destructor,'  said  Miss 
Fowler. 

This  was  an  open-air  furnace  for  the  consump- 
tion of  refuse ;  a  little  circular  four-foot  tower  of 
pierced  brick  over  an  iron  grating.  Miss  Fowler 
had  noticed  the  design  in  a  gardening  journal 
years  ago,  and  had  had  it  built  at  the  bottom  of 
the  garden.  It  suited  her  tidy  soul,  for  it  saved 
unsightly  rubbish-heaps,  and  the  ashes  lightened 
the  stiff  clay  soil. 

Mary  considered  for  a  moment,  saw  her 
way  clear,  and  nodded  again.  They  spent  the 
evening  putting  away  well-remembered  civilian 
suits,  underclothes  that  Mary  had  marked,  and 
the  regiments  of  very  gaudy  socks  and  ties.  A 
second  trunk  was  needed,  and,  after  that,  a  little 


43Q     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

packing-case,  and  it  was  late  next  day  when 
Cheape  and  the  local  carrier  lifted  them  to  the 
cart.  The  Rector  luckily  knew  of  a  friend's  son, 
about  five  feet  eight  and  a  half  inches  high,  to 
whom  a  complete  Flying  Corps  outfit  would  be 
most  acceptable,  and  sent  his  gardener's  son  down 
with  a  barrow  to  take  delivery  of  it.  The  cap 
was  hung  up  in  Miss  Fowler's  bedroom,  the  belt 
in  Miss  Postgate's  ;  for,  as  Miss  Fowler  said,  they 
had  no  desire  to  make  tea-party  talk  of  them. 

1  That  disposes  of  that,  said  Miss  Fowler. 
'  I'll  leave  the  rest  to  you,  Mary.  I  can't  run 
up  and  down  the  garden.  You'd  better  take  the 
big  clothes-basket  and  get  Nellie  to  help  you.' 

'  I  shall  take  the  wheel -barrow  and  do  it 
myself,'  said  Mary,  and  for  once  in  her  life  closed 
her  mouth. 

Miss  Fowler,  in  moments  of  irritation,  had 
called  Mary  deadly  methodical.  She  put  on  her 
oldest  waterproof  and  gardening-hat  and  her  ever- 
slipping  goloshes,  for  the  weather  was  on  the 
edge  of  more  rain.  She  gathered  fire-lighters 
from  the  kitchen,  a  half- scuttle  of  coals,  and  a 
faggot  of  brushwood.  These  she  wheeled  in  the 
barrow  down  the  mossed  paths  to  the  dank  little 
laurel  shrubbery  where  the  destructor  stood  under 
the  drip  of  three  oaks.  She  climbed  the  wire  fence 
into  the  Rector's  glebe  just  behind,  and  from  his 
tenant's  rick  pulled  two  large  armfuls  of  good 
hay,  which  she  spread  neatly  on  the  fire-bars. 
Next,  journey  by  journey,  passing  Miss  Fowler's 
white  face  at  the  morning-room  window  each 
time,    she    brought   down    in    the    towel-covered 


MARY  POSTGATE  431 

clothes-basket,  on  the  wheelbarrow,  thumbed  and 
used  Hentys,  Marryats,  Levers,  Stevensons, 
Baroness  Orczys,  Garvices,  schoolbooks,  and 
atlases,  unrelated  piles  of  the  Motor  Cyclist,  the 
Light  Car,  and  catalogues  of  Olympia  Exhibitions  ; 
the  remnants  of  a  fleet  of  sailing-ships  from  nine- 
penny  cutters  to  a  three-guinea  yacht  ;  a  prep.- 
school  dressing-gown ;  bats  from  three-and-sixpence 
to  twenty-four  shillings  ;  cricket  and  tennis  balls  ; 
disintegrated  steam  and  clockwork  locomotives 
with  their  twisted  rails  ;  a  grey  and  red  tin  model 
of  a  submarine  ;  a  dumb  gramophone  and  cracked 
records  ;  golf-clubs  that  had  to  be  broken  across 
the  knee,  like  his  walking-sticks,  and  an  assegai  ; 
photographs  of  private  and  public  school  cricket 
and  football  elevens,  and  his  O.T.C.  on  the  line 
of  march  ;  kodaks,  and  film-rolls  ;  some  pewters, 
and  one  real  silver  cup,  for  boxing  competitions 
and  Junior  Hurdles ;  sheaves  of  school  photo- 
graphs ;  Miss  Fowler's  photograph  ;  her  own 
which  he  had  borne  off  in  fun  and  (good  care  she 
took  not  to  ask  !)  had  never  returned  ;  a  playbox 
with  a  secret  drawer  ;  a  load  of  flannels,  belts, 
and  jerseys,  and  a  pair  of  spiked  shoes  unearthed 
in  the  attic  ;  a  packet  of  all  the  letters  that  Miss 
Fowler  and  she  had  ever  written  to  him,  kept  for 
some  absurd  reason  through  all  these  years  ;  a 
five-day  attempt  at  a  diary  ;  framed  pictures  of 
racing  motors  in  full  Brooklands  career,  and 
load  upon  load  of  undistinguishable  wreckage 
of  tool-boxes,  rabbit-hutches,  electric  batteries,  tin 
soldiers,  fret-saw  outfits,  and  jig-saw  puzzles. 
Miss  Fowler  at  the  window  watched  her  come 


432     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  go,  and  said  to  herself,  '  Mary's  an  old  woman. 
I  never  realised  it  before.' 

After  lunch  she  recommended  her  to  rest. 

*  I'm  not  in  the  least  tired,'  said  Mary.  '  I've 
got  it  all  arranged.  I'm  going  to  the  village  at 
two  o'clock  for  some  paraffin.  Nellie  hasn't 
enough,  and  the  walk  will  do  me  good.' 

She  made  one  last  quest  round  the  house 
before  she  started,  and  found  that  she  had  over- 
looked nothing.  It  began  to  mist  as  soon  as  she 
had  skirted  Vegg's  Heath,  where  Wynn  used  to 
descend — it  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  almost 
hear  the  beat  of  his  propellers  overhead,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  see.  She  hoisted  her  umbrella  and 
lunged  into  the  blind  wet  till  she  had  reached  the 
shelter  of  the  empty  village.  As  she  came  out  of 
Mr.  Kidd's  shop  with  a  bottle  full  of  paraffin  in 
her  string  shopping-bag,  she  met  Nurse  Eden,  the 
village  nurse,  and  fell  into  talk  with  her,  as 
usual,  about  the  village  children.  They  were 
just  parting  opposite  the  'Royal  Oak/  when  a 
gun,  they  fancied,  was  fired  immediately  behind 
the  house.  It  was  followed  by  a  child's  shriek 
dying  into  a  wail. 

'  Accident ! '  said  Nurse  Eden  promptly,  and 
dashed  through  the  empty  bar,  followed  by  Mary. 
They  found  Mrs.  Gerritt,  the  publican's  wife,  who 
could  only  gasp  and  point  to  the  yard,  where  a 
little  cart-lodge  was  sliding  sideways  amid  a  clatter 
of  tiles.  Nurse  Eden  snatched  up  a  sheet  drying 
before  the  fire,  ran  out,  lifted  something  from  the 
ground,  and  flung  the  sheet  round  it.  The  sheet 
turned   scarlet   and  half  her  uniform  too,  as  she 


MARY  POSTGATE  433 

bore  the  load  into  the  kitchen.  It  was  little  Edna 
Gerritt,  aged  nine,  whom  Mary  had  known  since 
her  perambulator  days. 

'  Am  I  hurted  bad  ? '  Edna  asked,  and  died 
between  Nurse  Eden's  dripping  hands.  The  sheet 
fell  aside  and  for  an  instant,  before  she  could  shut 
her  eyes,  Mary  saw  the  ripped  and  shredded  body. 

'  It's  a  wonder  she  spoke  at  all,'  said  Nurse 
Eden.      '  What  in  God's  name  was  it  ? ' 

'  A  bomb,'  said  Mary. 

'  One  o'  the  Zeppelins  ? ' 

'  No.  An  aeroplane.  I  thought  1  heard  it  on 
the  Heath,  but  I  fancied  it  was  one  of  ours.  It 
must  have  shut  off  its  engines  as  it  came  down. 
That's  why  we  didn't  notice  it.' 

'  The  filthy  pigs ! '  said  Nurse  Eden,  all  white 
and  shaken.  '  See  the  pickle  I'm  in  !  Go  and  tell 
Dr.  Hennis,  Miss  Postgate.'  Nurse  looked  at  the 
mother,  who  had  dropped  face  down  on  the  floor. 
'  She's  only  in  a  fit.     Turn  her  over.' 

Mary  heaved  Mrs.  Gerritt  right  side  up,  and 
hurried  off  for  the  doctor.  When  she  told  her 
tale,  he  asked  her  to  sit  down  in  the  surgery  till 
he  got  her  something. 

'  But  I  don't  need  it,  I  assure  you,"  said  she. 
'  I  don't  think  it  would  be  wise  to  tell  Miss  Fowler 
about  it,  do  you  ?  Her  heart  is  so  irritable  in 
this  weather.' 

Dr.  Hennis  looked  at  her  admiringly  as  he 
packed  up  his  bag. 

'  No.  Don't  tell  anybody  till  we're  sure/  he 
said,  and  hastened  to  the  '  Royal  Oak,'  while 
Mary  went   on   with   the  paraffin.      The   village 

2  F 


434     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

behind  her  was  as  quiet  as  usual,  for  the  news  had 
not  yet  spread.  She  frowned  a  little  to  herself, 
her  large  nostrils  expanded  uglily,  and  from  time 
to  time  she  muttered  a  phrase  which  Wynn,  who 
never  restrained  himself  before  his  women-folk,  had 
applied  to  the  enemy.  '  Bloody  pagans  !  They 
are  bloody  pagans.  But,'  she  continued,  falling 
back  on  the  teaching  that  had  made  her  what  she 
was,  *  one  mustn't  let  one's  mind  dwell  on  these 
things.' 

Before  she  reached  the  house  Dr.  Hennis,  who 
was  also  a  special  constable,  overtook  her  in  his 
car. 

'  Oh,  Miss  Postgate,'  he  said,  '  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  that  that  accident  at  the  "  Royal  Oak "  was 
due  to  Gerritt's  stable  tumbling  down.  It's  been 
dangerous  for  a  long  time.  It  ought  to  have  been 
condemned.' 

'  I  thought  I  heard  an  explosion  too,'  said 
Mary. 

'  You  might  have  been  misled  by  the  beams 
snapping.  I've  been  looking  at  'em.  They  were 
dry-rotted  through  and  through.  Of  course,  as 
they  broke,  they  would  make  a  noise  just  like  a 
gun.' 

'  Yes  ? '  said  Mary  politely. 

'  Poor  little  Edna  was  playing  underneath  it,' 
he  went  on,  still  holding  her  with  his  eyes,  '  and 
that  and  the  tiles  cut  her  to  pieces,  you  see  ? ' 

'  I  saw  it,'  said  Mary,  shaking  her  head.  '  I 
heard  it  too.' 

'Well,  we  cannot  be  sure.'  Dr.  Hennis 
changed  his  tone  completely.     '  I  know  both  you 


MARY  POSTGATE  435 

and  Nurse  Eden  (I've  been  speaking  to  her)  are 
perfectly  trustworthy,  and  I  can  rely  on  you  not 
to  say  anything — yet  at  least.  It  is  no  good  to 
stir  up  people  unless ' 

'  Oh,  I  never  do — anyhow,'  said  Mary,  and  Dr. 
Hennis  went  on  to  the  county  town. 

After  all,  she  told  herself,  it  might,  just 
possibly,  have  been  the  collapse  of  the  old  stable 
that  had  done  all  those  things  to  poor  little  Edna. 
She  was  sorry  she  had  even  hinted  at  other  things, 
but  Nurse  Eden  was  discretion  itself.  By  the 
time  she  reached  home  the  affair  seemed  increas- 
ingly remote  by  its  very  monstrosity.  As  she 
came  in,  Miss  Fowler  told  her  that  a  couple  of 
aeroplanes  had  passed  half  an  hour  ago. 

'  I  thought  I  heard  them,'  she  replied,  '  I'm 
going  down  to  the  garden  now.  I've  got  the 
paraffin.' 

'  Yes,  but — what  have  you  got  on  your  boots  ? 
They're  soaking  wet.     Change  them  at  once.' 

Not  only  did  Mary  obey  but  she  wrapped  the 
boots  in  a  newspaper,  and  put  them  into  the  string 
bag  with  the  bottle.  So,  armed  with  the  longest 
kitchen  poker,  she  left. 

*  It's  raining  again,'  was  Miss  Fowler's  last 
word,  '  but — I  know  you  won't  be  happy  till 
that's  disposed  of.' 

'  It  won't  take  long.  I've  got  everything  down 
there,  and  I've  put  the  lid  on  the  destructor  to 
keep  the  wet  out.' 

The  shrubbery  was  filling  with  twilight  by  the 
time  she  had  completed  her  arrangements  and 
sprinkled  the  sacrificial  oil.     As  she  lit  the  match 


436     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

that  would  burn  her  heart  to  ashes,  she  heard  a 
groan  or  a  grunt  behind  the  dense  Portugal  laurels. 

'  Cheape  ? '  she  called  impatiently,  but  Cheape, 
with  his  ancient  lumbago,  in  his  comfortable 
cottage  would  be  the  last  man  to  profane  the 
sanctuary.  '  Sheep,'  she  concluded,  and  threw  in 
the  fusee.  The  pyre  went  up  in  a  roar,  and  the 
immediate  flame  hastened  night  around  her. 

'  How  Wynn  would  have  loved  this !  '  she 
thought,  stepping  back  from  the  blaze. 

By  its  light  she  saw,  half  hidden  behind  a  laurel 
not  five  paces  away,  a  bareheaded  man  sitting  very 
stiffly  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  oaks.  A  broken 
branch  lay  across  his  lap — one  booted  leg  protrud- 
ing from  beneath  it.  His  head  moved  ceaselessly 
from  side  to  side,  but  his  body  was  as  still  as  the 
tree's  trunk.  He  was  dressed — she  moved  side- 
ways to  look  more  closely — in  a  uniform  something 
like  Wynn's,  with  a  flap  buttoned  across  the  chest. 
For  an  instant,  she  had  some  idea  that  it  might 
be  one  of  the  young  flying  men  she  had  met  at 
the  funeral.  But  their  heads  were  dark  and  glossy. 
This  man's  was  as  pale  as  a  baby's,  and  so  closely 
cropped  that  she  could  see  the  disgusting  pinky 
skin  beneath.     His  lips  moved. 

'  What  do  you  say  ? '  Mary  moved  towards 
him  and  stooped. 

*  Laty  !  Laty  I  Laty  ! '  he  muttered,  while  his 
hands  picked  at  the  dead  wet  leaves.  There  was 
no  doubt  as  to  his  nationality.  It  made  her  so 
angry  that  she  strode  back  to  the  destructor, 
though  it  was  still  too  hot  to  use  the  poker  there. 
Wynn's  books  seemed  to  be  catching  well.     She 


MARY  POSTGATE  437 

looked  up  at  the  oak  behind  the  man  ;  several  of 
the  light  upper  and  two  or  three  rotten  lower 
branches  had  broken  and  scattered  their  rubbish 
on  the  shrubbery  path.  On  the  lowest  fork  a 
helmet  with  dependent  strings,  showed  like  a 
bird's-nest  in  the  light  of  a  long-tongued  flame. 
Evidently  this  person  had  fallen  through  the  tree. 
Wynn  had  told  her  that  it  was  quite  possible  for 
people  to  fall  out  of  aeroplanes.  Wynn  told  her 
too,  that  trees  were  useful  things  to  break  an 
aviator's  fall,  but  in  this  case  the  aviator  must 
have  been  broken  or  he  would  have  moved  from 
his  queer  position.  He  seemed  helpless  except 
for  his  horrible  rolling  head.  On  the  other  hand, 
she  could  see  a  pistol  case  at  his  belt — and  Mary 
loathed  pistols.  Months  ago,  after  reading  certain 
Belgian  reports  together,  she  and  Miss  Fowler 
had  had  dealings  with  one — a  huge  revolver  with 
flat-nosed  bullets,  which  latter,  Wynn  said,  were 
forbidden  by  the  rules  of  war  to  be  used  against 
civilised  enemies.  l  They're  good  enough  for  us,' 
Miss  Fowler  had  replied.  '  Show  Mary  how  it 
works.'  And  Wynn,  laughing  at  the  mere  possi- 
bility of  any  such  need,  had  led  the  craven  winking 
Mary  into  the  Rector's  disused  quarry,  and  had 
shown  her  how  to  fire  the  terrible  machine.  It 
lay  now  in  the  top-left-hand  drawer  of  her  toilet- 
table — a  memento  not  included  in  the  burning. 
Wynn  would  be  pleased  to  see  how  she  was  not 
afraid. 

She  slipped  up  to  the  house  to  get  it.  When 
she  came  through  the  rain,  the  eyes  in  the  head 
were   alive   with    expectation.     The   mouth   even 


438     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

tried  to  smile.  But  at  sight  of  the  revolver  its 
corners  went  down  just  like  Edna  Gerritt's.  A 
tear  trickled  from  one  eye,  and  the  head  rolled 
from  shoulder  to  shoulder  as  though  trying  to 
point  out  something. 

*  Cassee.     Tout  cassee,'  it  whimpered. 

*  What  do  you  say  ? '  said  Mary  disgustedly, 
keeping  well  to  one  side,  though  only  the  head 
moved. 

1  Cassee,'  it  repeated.  '  Che  me  rends.  Le 
medicin  !     Toctor  ! ' 

1  Nein  !  said  she,  bringing  all  her  small  German 
to  bear  with  the  big  pistol.  '  Ich  haben  der  todt 
Kinder  gesehn.' 

The  head  was  still.  Mary's  hand  dropped. 
She  had  been  careful  to  keep  her  finger  off  the 
trigger  for  fear  of  accidents.  After  a  few  moments' 
waiting,  she  returned  to  the  destructor,  where  the 
flames  were  falling,  and  churned  up  Wynn's 
charring  books  with  the  poker.  Again  the  head 
groaned  for  the  doctor. 

1  Stop  that  !  '  said  Mary,  and  stamped  her  foot. 
1  Stop  that,  you  bloody  pagan  ! ' 

The  words  came  quite  smoothly  and  naturally. 
They  were  Wynn's  own  words,  and  Wynn  was  a 
gentleman  who  for  no  consideration  on  earth 
would  have  torn  little  Edna  into  those  vividly 
coloured  strips  and  strings.  But  this  thing 
hunched  under  the  oak-tree  had  done  that  thing. 
It  was  no  question  of  reading  horrors  out  of 
newspapers  to  Miss  Fowler.  Mary  had  seen  it 
with  her  own  eyes  on  the  '  Royal  Oak '  kitchen 
table.     She    must    not   allow   her   mind   to  dwell 


MARY  POSTGATE  439 

upon  it.  Now  Wynn  was  dead,  and  everything 
connected  with  him  was  lumping  and  rustling  and 
tinkling  under  her  busy  poker  into  red  black  dust 
and  grey  leaves  of  ash.  The  thing  beneath  the 
oak  would  die  too.  Mary  had  seen  death  more 
than  once.  She  came  of  a  family  that  had  a 
knack  of  dying  under,  as  she  told  Miss  Fowler, 
'  most  distressing  circumstances.'  She  would  stay 
where  she  was  till  she  was  entirely  satisfied  that 
It  was  dead — dead  as  dear  papa  in  the  late 
'eighties  ;  aunt  Mary  in  'eighty-nine  ;  mamma  in 
'ninety-one  ;  cousin  Dick  in  'ninety-five  ;  Lady 
McCausland's  housemaid  in  'ninety-nine ;  Lady 
McCausland's  sister  in  nineteen  hundred  and  one  ; 
Wynn  buried  five  days  ago  ;  and  Edna  Gerritt 
still  waiting  for  decent  earth  to  hide  her.  As  she 
thought — her  underlip  caught  up  by  one  faded 
canine,  brows  knit  and  nostrils  wide — she  wielded 
the  poker  with  lunges  that  jarred  the  grating  at 
the  bottom,  and  careful  scrapes  round  the  brick- 
work above.  She  looked  at  her  wrist-watch.  It 
was  getting  on  to  half-past  four,  and  the  rain  was 
coming  down  in  earnest.  Tea  would  be  at  five. 
If  It  did  not  die  before  that  time,  she  would  be 
soaked  and  would  have  to  change.  Meantime, 
and  this  occupied  her,  Wynn's  things  were  burning 
well  in  spite  of  the  hissing  wet,  though  now  and 
again  a  book-back  with  a  quite  distinguishable 
title  would  be  heaved  up  out  of  the  mass.  The 
exercise  of  stoking  had  given  her  a  glow  which 
seemed  to  reach  to  the  marrow  of  her  bones.  She 
hummed — Mary  never  had  a  voices — to  herself. 
She  had  never  believed  in  all  those  advanced  views 


44Q     A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

— though  Miss  Fowler  herself  leaned  a  little  that 
way — of  woman's  work,  in  the  world  ;  but  now  she 
saw  there  was  much  to  be  said  for  them.  This, 
for  instance,  was  her  work — work  which  no  man, 
least  of  all  Dr.  Hennis,  would  ever  have  done. 
A  man,  at  such  a  crisis,  would  be  what  Wynn 
called  a  '  sportsman  '  ;  would  leave  everything  to 
fetch  help,  and  would  certainly  bring  It  into  the 
house.  Now  a  woman's  business  was  to  make  a 
happy  home  for — for  a  husband  and  children. 
Failing  these — it  was  not  a  thing  one  should  allow 
one's  mind  to  dwell  upon — but 

1  Stop  it  ! '  Mary  cried  once  more  across  the 
shadows.  '  Nein,  I  tell  you !  Ich  haben  der 
todt  Kinder  gesehn.' 

But  it  was  a  fact.  A  woman  who  had  missed 
these  things  could  still  be  useful — more  useful 
than  a  man  in  certain  respects.  She  thumped  like 
a  pavior  through  the  settling  ashes  at  the  secret 
thrill  of  it.  The  rain  was  damping  the  fire,  but 
she  could  feel — it  was  too  dark  to  see — that  her 
work  was  done.  There  was  a  dull  red  glow  at 
the  bottom  of  the  destructor,  not  enough  to  char 
the  wooden  lid  if  she  slipped  it  half  over  against 
the  driving  wet.  This  arranged,  she  leaned  on 
the  poker  and  waited,  while  an  increasing  rapture 
laid  hold  on  her.  She  ceased  to  think.  She  gave 
herself  up  to  feel.  Her  long  pleasure  was  broken 
by  a  sound  that  she  had  waited  for  in  agony 
several  times  in  her  life.  She  leaned  forward  and 
listened,  smiling.  There  could  be  no  mistake. 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  drank  it  in.  Once  it 
ceased  abruptly. 


MARY  POSTGATE  441 

1  Go  on,'  she  murmured,  half  aloud.  '  That 
isn't  the  end.' 

Then  the  end  came  very  distinctly  in  a  lull 
between  two  rain-gusts.  Mary  Postgate  drew 
her  breath  short  between  her  teeth  and  shivered 
from  head  to  foot.  '  That's  all  right,'  said  she 
contentedly,  and  went  up  to  the  house,  where  she 
scandalised  the  whole  routine  by  taking  a  luxurious 
hot  bath  before  tea,  and  came  down  looking,  as 
Miss  Fowler  said  when  she  saw  her  lying  all 
relaxed  on  the  other  sofa,  '  quite  handsome  !  ' 


THE   BEGINNINGS 

It  was  not  part  of  their  blood, 

It  came  to  them  very  late 
With  long  arrears  to  make  good, 

When  the  English  began  to  hate. 

They  were  not  easily  moved, 
They  were  icy  willing  to  wait 

Till  every  count  should  be  proved, 
Ere  the  English  began  to  hate. 

Their  voices  were  even  and  low, 
Their  eyes  were  level  and  straight. 

There  was  neither  sign  nor  show, 
When  the  English  began  to  hate. 

It  was  not  preached  to  the  crowd, 
It  was  not  taught  by  the  State. 

No  man  spoke  it  aloud, 

When  the  English  began  to  hate. 

It  was  not  suddenly  bred, 
It  will  not  swiftly  abate, 

Through  the  chill  years  ahead, 

When  Time  shall  count  from  the  date 
That  the  English  began  to  hate. 


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